


you wrote your name on my heart

by Dusklight1



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, But particularly during sixth and seventh year, Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Cause it finally applies to this story, Cause soulmates can do that ok, Did I mention Sadness?, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Happy Endings in Short Supply, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mpreg, Multi, One-Shots, Only soul mates listed in the relationships area of the tags, Soulmate AU, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Thats a tag i can use now, The one where we admit leading Snape to wolfed-out lupin was attempted murder, in case nunya realized that by now, just because one person has someone's mark doesn't mean that person has theirs, obviously, reference to attempted suicide, there are other relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 05:20:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 40,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6691255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dusklight1/pseuds/Dusklight1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tales of soulmates(often gone wrong) in the Potterverse.</p><p>Or,</p><p>When a person is six years old, a Mark appears on their body. Words, the very first words their soulmate will ever say, are etched somewhere on their body. When they meet that soulmate, the Mark blooms, swirls of color or a pattern of some sort branching out from their Mark. And when someone dies, their Soulmate's Mark burns into scar tissue, previously vibrant words greying like so much ash.</p><p>The great thing about Soulmarks? Everybody has one, no exception. The awful thing? Just because Person A has Person B's Mark, doesn't mean that Person B has Person A's Mark. The worst thing? Sometimes, whether it matches or not, doesn't matter. Sometimes, your Soulmate hates you regardless.</p><p>
  <em> Avada Kedavra</em>
</p><p>
  <em> Mudblood</em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bloodtraitor</em>
</p><p>
  <em>My name is Gellert.</em>
</p><p>What would you do, if your Soulmate rejected you?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Ill-Fated Trio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i wonder what  
> the words  
> 'i love you'  
> sound like  
> when they  
> come out of  
> your mouth  
> although  
> of course  
> i would never  
> get the  
> chance to know
> 
> What are you supposed to do when your mark says that your soulmate finds you inferior, or tried to murder you before you could walk, just after callously murdering your parents. 
> 
> Harry grows up thinking his strange words are from someone in a foreign land, and that he'll travel there someday.
> 
> Hermione grows up with the knowledge that her soulmate will want nothing to do with her, from the first time they meet.
> 
> Ron grows up knowing his soulmate is either a follower of the Dark Lord or a sympathiser.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in this soulmark au the mark starts out as just your soul mates first words to you. Once you meet them and hear the first thing they say to you, which is the mark, a design or pattern fills out around the words. If someone's soulmate is dead, the words and design are an ashy grey with what looks like burn scars for a design around them. The mark can be anywhere, and appears when someone is six years old. Everyone gets one, it's just that the mark you get may not match another person.

**Harry** - _Ron_ -Hermione is six years old when it appears, just like everyone else. _He_ /she cries. **He** traces it in childish wonder.

* * *

 

Harry is rinsing plates when a spot just above his heart stings something fierce, and spreads down his arms from there. He drops the plate he holding in the sink and whimpers. Petunia, standing by the stove, looks at him sharply.

" You didn't cut yourself on a butter knife again, did you? I've told you and told you to be careful."

" N-no, Aunt Petunia, but my heart hurts," Harry replies. When he turns around, she sees the curling loops of green splaying down and around his arms. The green is a strange sickly color, and right then and there Petunia decides she doesn't like it. Still, the skin around the mark will be irritated, so she beckons him over, and together they walk to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom and she grabs the aloe.

" Lift your shirt, I'd imagine your mark is hurting you by now," Petunia says brusquely. When he does, she almost faints. In neat, masculine handwriting, framed by chartreuse tendrils that resemble snakes, are the words that ended her sister and brother-in-laws life. _Avada Kedavra_ his chest declares, and he glances at it in the mirror.

" It's so pretty," Harry gasps. Petunia is going to _puke_. Or faint. Maybe both. Because her sister's boy is the soulmate of her sister's killer. Fucking _poetic_. No, fucking _Shakespearean_.

Later that night, Petunia tells Vernon in hushed tones about the boy's soulmark. Vernon is grim.

" Well then, that's just another reason he can't go, isn't it? We-we'll raise him to be _normal_ , not one of those freaks. He won't even have to go to that place,nor be around those people. No one in _our_ world can tell the boy what the words mean. He doesn't ever have to know."

* * *

 

When Hermione's words appear, it's like a sort of awful foreshadowing, not that the little girl knows it. _Go away you stupid little mudblood_ curls in pretty violet feminine calligraphy down from her shoulder, the word _mudblood_ coming to a prophetic rest on her inner forearm-( _years later, a cackling Bellatrix Lestrange will sneer," Looks like someone beat me to the chase," as she brings her knife down_ ). Even if Hermione can't possibly know any of that, she knows _mudblood_ can't remotely be a good thing to call someone, and when she runs inside sniffling to show her parents, they know it too. They do their best to comfort their little girl, tell her it doesn't matter, but she's inconsolable.

The next day they buy her the strongest mark concealer they can find, and show her how to put it on. She learns quickly, of course. As always. She learns almost as quickly to not think of what the make up conceals, ever. And when Professor McGonagall tells the Grangers about magic, and then about pureblooded bigotry, Hermione shows the woman the mark on her arm, and asks if that makes her soulmate a pureblooded bigot.

* * *

 

Ron is the only one of the ill-fated trio to know what his words mean the moment he sees them, and he sobs, loudly and utterly heart-broken. Fred and George walk into the bathroom just in time to see Ron start bawling.

" What's wrong, ickle Ronniekins, did you stub your toe-"

"-or drop your tedd-oh bloody  _hell_."

Somehow Molly hears Fred cuss from inside the kitchen, and she barrels into the second floor bathroom to chastise him. Then she sees Ron.

" What did you do to your brother?" Molly thunders.

" Not th-th-them," he whimpers, and turns to face his mother and point at the beautifully delicate script printed on his left collarbone in icy blue. _Bloodtraitor scum._ Molly takes one look at it, before picking up her youngest son and cradling him to her like she does when he has a nightmare. Except this isn't something Ron will ever wake up from.

Later on when the children are in bed, Arthur and Molly nurse tea at the table.

" Do you think they'll ever love him?" Molly whispers sadly. Arthur wants to reassure her, but he tells the truth instead.

" That's possible. But..they may not dear. And if that's so, then there are plenty of people with unrequited marks or soulmates who don't love them who still find love. And I believe that will be the case with Ronnie, if it comes down to it."

* * *

 

She walks into a nearly empty compartment, and addresses the only girl she sees within, as the two boys with her look on with a sort of detached interest.

" Do you mind if I sit with you, for the ride? I'm Hermione Granger, by the way," she greets cheerfully. A curious mix of emotions( _sadness-anger-hate, so similar to the ones on Pansy's parents faces when she first showed them the mark)_  swirl on the girl's face, before she spits out," Go away you stupid little _mudblood_." Tingles erupt on their left arms, and the marks are finished.

Hermione takes one last tear stricken look at the girl in front of her before she runs.

* * *

 

All he wants is to find a compartment with someone nice in it, that's it. As he rushes down the train car, glancing in windows, he sees a pretty girl with bright blonde hair drop her suitcase and trip over it. Ron rushes to help, holding out his hand to pull her up.

" Are you ok, do you need help?"

His hand is slapped away the moment blue-grey eyes land on his red hair and freckled face.

" Blood traitor scum," she hisses, standing up. When she sees the look on his face,(something that manages to be both sorrowful and utterly resigned), she realizes the same thing he did. Both purebloods feel the tingling around their mark that signifies the rest of the design filling in, a pattern to swirl around first words. The girls face is a mask of indifference, and she snaps over her shoulder at him as she leaves.

" I will never need your help Weasley,or anything from you. _Ever_."

This time Ron Weasley walks with a hanging head into Harry Potter's compartment, where the boy sits doodling in a notebook.

* * *

 

Harry James Potter has never been this happy in his entire life.

Magic is real, he is a wizard, he is on the way to Hogwarts, and he is doodling in a brand new notebook. Well, not doodling, per se. Actually, he's drawing his mark with a sparkly green pen Dudley threw away. Just then, a boy with red hair walks in, and he looks like he's about to cry.

" Can I sit here? All the other compartments are full. Um, I'm Ron Weasley by the way," he mumbles. Harry nods eagerly. Perhaps he could cheer this boy up; perhaps they could be friends. Harry has never had a friend before.

" What are you drawing? Er, if you don't want to show me that's fine too," Ron says. Harry moves to sit beside him, extending the book so he can see. ( _Ever since Harry found out about magic, he's suspected the words on his chest are special wizard words, that only people with magic have. Or a special spell, maybe one to find his soulmate. Maybe this boy will know what his words mean.._ ).

" This is a drawing of my mark. I don't know what the words mean though. I think it might be a spell; do you know any spells, or this one?" Harry says hopefully, his words in a rush. The other boy looks like he might throw up.

" What's your name," Ron asks carefully, (and to Harry, randomly). Harry's brow furrows, but he answers Harry James Potter obediently. Ron turns sad eyes on him, feeling inadequate to explain.

" I've..well.. _oh_ _Merlin_. Harry, you were raised by muggles, right?" Ron asks. Harry nods, adding that he didn't know about magic until Hagrid told him.

" Well, did Hagrid tell you about what happened to your parents?" Ron replies.

" Yes, why?" Harry asks, a sort of foreboding settling heavy on his spine. Ron places a bracing hand on his shoulder.

" Did he tell you the name of the spell used on your parents, and-and you?"

" No," Harry whispers. And now he understands Ron's queasy look, his reluctance, the asking him of his name. Because a blind man could see where this conversation was headed.

" You-Know-Who cast the killing curse on all three of you. The killing curse- the, the _incantation_  of it, is Avada Kedavra," he says remorsefully.

Harry James Potter has never been this sad in his entire life.

* * *

 

Hermione Granger is too sad to help a chubby boy find his toad, but she still finds the compartment with a red head and a raven. It's just that both are sniffling. And she doesn't mean to walk in on a private conversation, really, but she still does.

"-ly doesn't make you feel better, but mine called me bloodtraitor and said she didn't want anything to do with me," the red head says, then looks up sharply at the bushy headed girl who just walked in on them.

" I-I'll go, if you have a problem with mudbloods," Hermione says, voice breaking on the last word," but if someone called you a bloodtraitor I'll hazard a guess that you don't."

" _Someone_ being my soulmate, but no, I don't. You can sit down, if it's ok with Harry too," the boy says. Hermione's lips twist in a sardonic grin.

" My soulmate is the one who called me mudblood," she replies. Harry chokes out a laugh.

" I suppose it's fate, then. This compartment was just _meant_ for people whose soul mates hate them. Ron's called him a bloodtraitor, yours called you a mudblood, which I imagine is rather the same thing, and I just learned that mine m-murdered my parents and t-tried to kill me," he says.

It takes Hermione about five seconds to figure out just which Harry Harry is, from those clues. Hermione decides she doesn't care, as she sits across from them. On the ride to Hogwarts, friendships are made and a trio of heartbroken children is formed, earlier than it might have been, perhaps. But there are just some things that you can't go through without liking each other, and meeting hateful soulmates( _or learning that you apparently did so ten years ago, and supposedly killed him_ ) and finding out you aren't alone on that front is one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor baby lions. They arent the only Gryff's in for a heartbreak, though.


	2. Alpha Leonis and his brother the Dog-Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mighty pain to love it is,  
> And 't is a pain that pain to miss;  
> But of all pains, the greatest pain  
> It is to love, but love in vain.”  
> ― Abraham Cowley, The Poems of Abraham Cowley
> 
> The Blacks are unlucky in love, always. The brightest star in the sky finds himself alone in a constellation of three, and the star at the heart of the lion finds his own heart broken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case nobody noticed this huge time jump, these aren't in chronological order. Just sayin.

Vermilion  _Are you a first year too?_ and a golden amber  _My name is Remus._ seared themselves onto his wrists the day he turned six. An idealistic child, spirits bolstered by the fact that his parents seemed to approve of his marks,(in reality they're just happy that both soul mates appear to be magical, from context clues at least), Sirius is overjoyed. He shows his four year old brother who oohs and awes as he is expected to. Regulus tells him Remus is a nice name, and asks if Sirius thinks his soulmate will have a nice one too. Sirius say she's sure they will,( _years later Sirius will hiss Snivellus in a mocking tone, so in a way he lied; he does not think Regulus' soulmate has a good name at all, or a good anything)._

* * *

 He meets his first soulmate on the train to Hogwarts. So does his soulmate, James Potter, who meets one Lily Evans and the words around the two's throats like matching collars,(the mark on James' neck emerald green, and on Lil's a vermilion that clashes terribly with her hair, Sirius thinks uncharitably), branch out with swirls. James doesn't show a hint of recognition for Sirius though, and that breaks the Black heir a little. He breaks the rest of the way just before the sorting, when Remus Lupin, with his rolled up sleeves( _and bare wrists_ ) doesn't perk up at all. 

And of course Sirius ends up in the same dorm as his not-soulmates. At least he knows the silencing charm to place on his bed curtains. James and Remus won't hear his sobbing that lasts half of the night.

* * *

Sirius Orion Black is the best goddamn friend to walk this earth. Sirius Orion Black is his soulmate's wingman, and eventually best man. Sirius Orion Black doesn't even cuss out or be remotely rude to Evans. He is a fucking gem, clearly. Such a gem that he waits until the wedding and after party are over before apparating to his flat and getting rip-roaring drunk. He's so drunk that he passes out, and is never aware that James comes to check on him, sees his bare wrists( _and really that's just the final piece of the puzzle, James is pretty sure he's known for a while, God he feels like such a dick, for not matching his friend_ ), and picks him up and carries him to bed. He doesn't know that James knows, and that's probably for the best.

* * *

Sirius doesn't know how to be a godfather, or a father figure of any kind. But he knows how to hold his fifteen year old godson as he breaks down in tears and admits something only two other people know. Sirius holds Harry as he tells his godfather through tears about his soulmate and parseltongue and the visions that make his heart ache and his mark burn and his scar bleed.

Sirius tells Harry about a hopeful little boy who thought he had two soul mates and found out he had none.

* * *

 Regulus, when he was still alive, had loopy black script on the lifeline of his left palm that said _Welcome to Slytherin_. Sirius couldn't help but be jealous, because that meant that Regulus was still the favored son, because not only did this mean he would be in Slytherin, but so was his soulmate. When he was feeling particularly petulant, he commented to his little brother that his mark could be sarcasm, that it could just mean his Soulmate had caught him sneaking into the common room in the dungeons. But Regulus didn't care. He knew he'd be in Slytherin, and soulmate would be older than him and clearly kind to give him a welcome.

When Regulus Black met his soulmate, it was a gaunt older boy in secondhand robes with shaggy black hair, black shining eyes, and a sort of hooked nose.

" Welcome to Slytherin," he said. Regulus felt his hand tingle, and a sense of completion. He smiled at the older boy.

" I am _very_ glad to be here," he replied, grinning at the look of surprise on the older boy's face. Later on, he will tell Sirius, because estranged or not they are brothers. Sirius will try to be happy for him for the same reason, but Regulus must see something in his eyes, and Regulus will ask about his marks. Sirius will show him the filled in marks and explain in clipped tones about handsome mischievous James Potter and sweet bookish Remus Lupin and how the words they have aren't his. Regulus will hold his older brother as they cry on top of the astronomy tower, for Sirius who is Unrequited and for Regulus who's soulmate told him in hushed whispers at dinner  _I'm not gay,_ and _I love someone else._

* * *

 

Years later, when Regulus is dying alone in a cave, he tasks his beloved Kreacher with _two_ important things instead of one. _Destroy the locket,_  and _Take this to Severus._  Kreacher doesn't fail at _both_ of his tasks.

* * *

  _My dearest Severus,_

_When you receive this from Kreacher, I will have succumbed to my wounds. I wished for you to know that I love you, so much, even if that love is not returned. I am sure you felt the mark change, and have seen it, if you ever look at it, and you must already know something is wrong. And also, I must warn you of your master. He has delved into the blackest of magic, from which there is no return. Flee him while you can, flee to Dumbledore, just get away Sev._

_Sincerest regards, Regulus_.

 

That's the note Kreacher delivers to him as he takes tea. Severus is legitimately surprised the elf brought him anything, considering that it hates him with a burning passion. Taking the note in one hand, he reads it while he holds his tea in the other. He drops his teacup on the floor, where it shatters like he once shattered Regulus's heart. Severus did, in fact, feel the mark on his arm burn, in the midst of sleep last night. He'd thought it a dream when he woke up. Now, he looks at his dead gray mark, _I am very glad to be here,_ burned eternally and ashy grey, different from the vibrant cerulean it once was. He doesn't know the emerald green on his left shoulder will be the same color, soon enough. 

* * *

 

Lily finds out about Sirius' marks in seventh year. The question she asks is of innocent intention, but Sirius is irratible and tired and stressed by the N.E.W.T's as it is,(and it was _her_ who asked it) and honestly it pisses him off.

" Do you hate me?"

He looks at her with hard grey eyes, shadowed with sleeplessness.

" Why shouldn't I," he snaps. Lily flinches back. She honestly doesn't understand why he could possibly hate her. She doesn't think it's that pureblood nonsense, not with Sirius being Sirius, but she's still confused.

" Why _should_ you!? What did I ever do to you!?" she snaps back, feeling hurt. Sirius has never displayed this sort of animosity towards her before. Usually he regards her with a cold sort of detachedness. Not _hate._ Still, his avoidance and near refusal to speak with her since she met him on the train are what prompted the question, and she wants a bloody answer.

" It isn't a _what,_ it's a _who._ Two of them, and neither are mine! And one is _yours_ ," he seethes, showing her his wrist. Future Sirius will regret this, but this is present Sirius, and he doesn't care. Lily is pale.

" James and Remus? And..oh god, I'm sorry Sirius," Lily replies sadly. But Sirius is already stomping back up to his dorm, leaving Lily in the empty commons.

* * *

Remus finds out by accident, like James. They are holed up in Grimmauld, and bored, and _hammered,_ and Sirius is telling Remus to get on with it already.

" 'onsley Moons, jus ask her aready. You, you aren't like me, not gonna die lone like ol Padfoot. Nymphie, she's got your mark on her shoulder, an you got hers on yours. Not like me. Y'know, James' wors, there all grey now, not red like they should be, not gold like yours. I don't like 'em now," Sirius rants in a drunken slur. Remus, drunk as he is, still understands what Sirius is saying.

" Paddy, Paddy, I'm sorry," he mumbles back, slumping in his seat. They both end up passing out later. But not before Remus has slurred several more apologies at his friend.

* * *

 There were several reasons Sirius Black hated Severus Snape(the one thing he and Kreacher could agree on, Kreacher telling him _Yous is a bloodtraitor, but even you knows family is first. Yous is a good brother._  as they plot revenge together one summer. After all, house elves can easily get into an unwarded house, and _Snivellus_ lives with his muggle father, so there aren't any wards on his house..). First and foremost, his brother's broken heart. But also, even though Severus Snape is Unrequited, he also has another mark that matches someone, and he _rejects it._ That's something Sirius cannot fathom. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry Siri. Poor Siri, Poor Reg. In case nobody got the astronomy references, Sirius, the Dog-Star, is said to be the brightest star in the sky, and Regulus is a name attributed to the star Alpha Leonis, which lies at the heart of the Leo constellation.


	3. Kindred spirits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I love you. I hate you. I like you. I hate you. I love you. I think you’re stupid. I think you’re a loser. I think you’re wonderful. I want to be with you. I don’t want to be with you. I would never date you. I hate you. I love you…..I think the madness started the moment we met and you shook my hand. Did you have a disease or something?”  
> ― Shannon L. Alder
> 
> Albus and Harry talk about what it's like to be the soulmate of a dark lord, and Ron and Hermione comfort Harry.

Harry wakes up aching and sore, but nowhere more so than his mark. He looks up to see a melancholy Dumbledore. He starts to speak, a rambling half delirious warning about the stone, but Dumbledore cuts him off gently. After explaining the situation, and the rumor mill, Dumbledore leaves him a standing invitation to come see him before he leaves for the summer, telling him he's got a feeling they've more to talk about.

Hermione and Ron rush in after he's gone, running over to Harry's bed and sitting on either side of him. 

" Are you alright now? Was it really _him?_  I'm so _sorry_ mate, really. I wish you had not had to go through that," they rush out, their sentences one after the other without pause. Harry smiles sadly.

" But that's how it will always be between us, isn't it? I doubt he's gonna stop trying to kill me just because-well, because we're, _y'know,_ " he replies. This gets him soft hugs from either side of him. ( _We don't need them, we've got each other_ is the feeling, the thought, that all three children share).

* * *

A few hours before its time to leave, Harry says _gumdrops_ to a gargoyle and heads up to Professor Dumbledore's office, hesitantly. He knows they must have seen his mark, and thinks that's why he's been called, to be reprimanded. It turns out he is wrong. He ends up sitting before Dumbledore's desk in a squashy purple armchair, nursing a warm cuppa.

" I wanted you to know that you are not alone my boy. There are others who have unwanted marks," Dumbledore says. Harry sags in the seat.

" But not a dark lord," he murmurs sadly. The headmaster looks at him with saddened blue eyes, and replies quietly.

" Not so. Have you ever heard of Grindelwald?" he asks. Harry nods.

" It mentions him on your chocolate frog card, sir. And in Modern Magical History. Both of them say he was.." Harry trailed off, before looking him in the eyes.

" He was _yours,_ wasn't he?" the boy asks with sad certainty. Dumbledore shows him the crisp yellow words on the back of his fist, and tells Harry a story..

* * *

Albus hated this small town, this small life. Part of him just knew his soulmate was out in the world, somewhere far from here, and if they kept him here he'd never find them. He is walking along the street, kicking at stones, when he sees a boy stalking out of old Bagshot's house with long powerful strides. As soon as he sees him, he begins to walk over, stopping in front of Albus.

" Hello. I'm Albus," he says. Beautiful steel blue eyes widen, and full lips stretch into a lazy smile.

" I am Gellert, pleasure to make your acquaintance," Gellert purrs in a strong accent. Albus gasps. He's met his soulmate, and his soulmate is charming and beautiful. On the surface, anyways. But Albus learns all too late that Gellert isn't all that he seems, and thirty years later he faces his soulmate in battle. 

* * *

 

Harry tells Dumbledore about the day his mark appeared, already completed, signifying he'd met his soulmate already. He tells him about his Aunt Petunia's horror that went unnoticed by the ecstatic six year old, at the time. He tells him about thinking it another language, and later magic words. Harry tells him about the risk train ride, and how he became friends with Hermione and Ron, and how later on Pansy sent Hermione away in tears, into a bathroom that ended up having a troll in it. How they defeated it, and how a few months later Daphne hexed Ron with a sunburn hex for looking at her. About how a few days ago when he came face to face with Quirrel and found his soulmate on the back of the professors head, how his scar bled and his mark ached. They spoke about the hardships of being the soulmates of Dark Lords.

In the following years they would have many similar meetings, and the meetings would soothe their troubled souls, at least some.

* * *

 

In the Chamber of Secrets the soul shard of a sixteen year old Tom Riddle finds out why _Tom, please, we have to go it's not safe, there's a basilisk in here somewhere!_ is written in emerald chicken scratch on his chest, because his very nearly completely solid chest and arms tingle the moment the boy on the floor cried it at him. He wonders if his main self feels it too,( _the shade does, and is furious, because he saw the Daily Prophet article about the old coot's ousting, and why. He knows that his horcrux got to meet his soulmate before he did, and that irks him, even if it explains a lot.),_ and offers for the boy to join him( _he wants him, and maybe it's left over emotions from that ginger chit and maybe that he's **finally** found his soulmate, it just took fifty or so years). _He says _no, never_ , he kills his basilisk, he kills his diary( _him)_. And when the soul piece gets reabsorbed by the shade-Tom, he sees the memories of a boy who hates him, and the shade thinks to himself _if I can't have him I'll **kill** him._

This year-end meeting is even more somber; Harry almost died, again. And part of him wants to, the part that rests above the heart that Tom Riddle keeps trying to stop from beating. Harry tells the Headmaster about the offer he wanted to take so badly, and cries and asks if that makes him a bad person, and Dumbledore assures him _No Harry, you are a good person, the best of all of us, you were tempted and didn't falter, not like me._


	4. You've gotta be cruel to be kind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " I’d always secretly believed that a love as fierce and true as mine would be rewarded in the end, and now I was being forced to accept the bitter truth.”  
> ― Alma Katsu, The Taker
> 
> Vanity was stronger than love at sixteen and there was no room in her hot heart now for anything but hate.”  
> ― Margaret Mitchell, Gone with the Wind
> 
> Diana Holquist  
> “Whatever he had found, it made him a better person. Maybe that's what love was, finding the person who brings out the best in you and eliminates  
> the worst.”  
> ― Diana Holquist, Make Me a Match
> 
> When you stop expecting people to be perfect, you can like them for who they are.”  
> ― Donald Miller, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years: What I Learned While Editing My Life
> 
> Luna Lovegood turned six and found two soulmarks around her ankles.
> 
> Draco Malfoy carried one on his on his hip.
> 
> Neville just wants to know what the hell a Nargle is, and why his soulmate thinks he has them.
> 
> Astoria has a mark on her right hip that she's sure is from someone good and kind and warm, and hopefully unlike the soulmate her sister never speaks of,(except maybe that's what she should hope for, because Draco is none of those things).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title taken from a song because I couldn't think of anything fml

Luna is a girl in love with people she's never met. She loves Mr or Miss _What's a Nargle, I've wondered since I was six!,_ she even loves _I've heard of you. Loony Lovegood, they call you._  Her mother and father are fine with the earthy reddish brown question that curls around her left ankle, and have told Luna that she'll just have to teach her soulmate, won't she. However, they are not fine with the cruel silver remark on her right ankle like a chain. Pandora thinks she'll hex that one. Xenophilius proposed feeding the person to a Crumple-Horned Snorkak. He was shot down.

Luna though, is sure that the rest of what Righty(as she has dubbed that soulmate) is simply making a statement, the rest of which will end with something like,' _I'm sure that's not true, though. People can be so mean_.'

* * *

 

Draco Malfoy had pale lavender on his hip, that read _Hello Draco, I'm Astoria, but you already know that, don't you?_  It's not that hard for his parents to narrow it down to who his soulmate is, especially when a year later Cyrus Greengrass contacts Lucius Malfoy about his little girl's mark, _Hello, my name is Draco Malfoy,_ pretty and silver and appearing to have been written on with a quill. Their parents decide to wait until Draco is turning ten and she nine for them to meet, feeling that they need to be a little older first. Still, he wonders what the girl will be like, dainty and proper and fragile, a pureblood princess, or a rebel wild child like his cousin ended up,( _but he was true to the House of Black in the end, wasn't he)._

He meets a dark headed child with almond shaped lilac eyes and fair skin, who wears bright sundresses under her child size robes. Astoria curtsies to him and he bows a little, and says,' _Hello, my name is Draco Malfoy.'_ She grins at him. ' _I'm Astoria, but you already know that, don't you?'_ tingles on his skin, up across his rib cage, just like with Astoria. 

Draco Malfoy is pleasantly assured in his future, betrothed at ten, which might've caused a scandal if not for the fact that the children were soulmates. Constantly he is told he's lucky to have met his soulmate so young, and he finds he agrees, even at ten. Yes, Astoria is the only one he will ever want, he knows it.

* * *

 

Neville Longbottom is gifted with a razzmatazz chain of loopy lettering around his left ankle that reads _Oh my, you have quite a Nargle problem._ Neville asked his grandmother what a Nargle was, once. She looked at him like he was insane. He'd quickly explained about his mark, and Augusta had theorized his soulmate might be a magizoologist, and Nargles undiscovered creatures( _what Neville doesn't know is Augusta is worried that his soulmate is insane_ ). 

Still, Neville asks for creature books for every Christmas and birthday, hoping to find Nargles. He is pleasantly surprised in his second year, when he meets a girl named Luna, who tells him his words verbatim. Finally, he gets to ask his question! Luna laughs and tells the ecstatic boy about Nargles and Blibbering Humdingers and all sorts of things.

* * *

 

Astoria is very proud of her mark, the thin sliver that arches over her right hip bone. She shows it to her parents, and she'd like to think they're proud too. Daphne is happy for her as well.

" What do you think he's like? Will he be chivalrous like yours?," Astoria asks her older sister. Daphne smiles brightly.

" I'm sure. He's a Malfoy after all, a proper pureblood, like us. They can't have raised him without manners Tori," she replies. So Astoria dreams of her soulmate, that he will be kind and good and warm like sunlight. In the end that's not what she gets, but better than her heartbroken Daffy, who clearly ended up with someone not so chivalrous after all.( _Daphne has never told her the truth, that Ronald Bilius Weasley is good and sweet and so very sad and its all her fault, not his, because she painted a six year old with **Bloodtraitor scum!** out of petty anger and disappointment). _No her Draco isn't perfect, the way she imagined. He's cool instead of warm, and no, he's not altogether good, though even when he is Marked years and years later there's still some seed of good within him. And, while he's not kind to anyone else, he's kind to Astoria, and somewhat to Daphne because she's Astoria's sister. 

Draco shows this kindness in different ways; helping Astoria with spells, leaving her flowers pressed in her textbooks- aster( _love, daintiness),_ azaleas( _temperance and fragile passion),_ gloxinia( _love at first sight),_ and white heather( _protection)._  She had once shown a passing interest in the Albino Malfoy Peacocks and Draco had procured for her a fertilized egg. When it hatched the then ten year old had hid it in her room for a week, before her mother found her feeding it bird formula out of a tiny bottle(both of which Draco had sent with the egg, along with several other supplies). Her mother was exasperated, but let her keep Aloysious. 

* * *

Luna doesn't meet her other soulmate until she's a third year. Neville has told her not to worry about not sharing the other one with him, that she is all his heart has room for. She kissed his nose and called him sweeter than a dirigible plum. Neville blushed about the same color as one, too. Anyways, she walks into the boys bathroom on the sixth floor by accident, and finds him crying. 

" Are you alright?" Luna asks, concerned. Draco Malfoy turns to look at her, and sneers.

" I've heard of you. Loony Lovegood they call you," he says scathingly. Luna bites her lip at the tingling that occurs on her left ankle and leg, and the pain in her heart. In the dim light of the bathroom, he mark glows in completion. Of course, he notices. Of course, he comments.

" Well that's interesting. You're an Unrequited, aren't you," he laughs. She just shakes her head.

" Just because you don't have my words, doesn't mean nobody else does. I'm quite happy with Neville; I don't need you," she says and walks out the door. She wasn't lying either, she doesn't really _need_ Draco; she hurts from his cold rejection though. 


	5. Reconciliation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " I never hated you. My anger was never with you, but with the little hell my heart had put me in. The anger always passed. I never regretted loving you. If I had gone to my grave never kissing you or touching you, I still would not have thought it a wasted love.”  
> ― Madeline Hunter, The Romantic
> 
> " I’ve always loved you,” he said, his eyes a blue that was almost violet. “You know this.” She swallowed a lump in her throat. “I only wonder whether I deserve such devotion.”  
> “Sometimes people fall in love with those who do not return the same strength of feelings. It is as it is,” he said with a quiet intensity. “What I give, I give freely. You owe me nothing, not love, not friendship, not even obligation.”  
> ― Sherry Thomas, Tempting the Bride
> 
> Hermione comes face to face with her once more when she restarts Hogwarts. Like, face-touching-face, face to face. On accident. She'd swear it in front of God and Merlin and the Wizingamot.
> 
> Ron has ice cream at Florean Fortescue's and meets someone he'd rather not see. At all. Especially not with choco-berry whizzle-drizzle dripping down his chin.

Hermione is sensible. Hermione Jean Granger, even her _name_ is sensible. She has put away childish things, childish hopes( _and **God** how she'd once hoped, hoped she could change her soul mates mind,'why are you doing this? why do you hate me so much?' she'd wanted to scream_ ). Her breath should not catch in her throat, her heart stutter dramatically, upon seeing Pansy Parkinson. Should not and do not are two different things, though.

So, Hermione tries to avoid her as much as possible. Then she finds out that all of the colloquially dubbed 'Eighth Years' share gender split dorms. Which means her soulmate is also her roommate. _Yaaaaaaaay_. That makes Hermione _so_ _happy_. _Sarcasm_? What sarcasm, what is this sarcasm you speak of?

And, of course, they still have nearly the same schedule as each other, though it's not like Hermione expected that to change. It's just, it's very hard to concentrate on Ancient Runes and Arithmancy when Pansy is her fucking Merlin-damned partner who sits right _fucking_ next to her. _More_ yay. Of course, outside of class work Pansy doesn't say a word to her, which is fine with Hermione because she doesn't really trust her voice around the other girl. As it is, Hermione isn't the one who initiates conversation.

" What the hell is _that_ ," Pansy hisses. Hermione's left sleeve has ridden up, and the forever open wound that spells out _mudblood_ ,( _Bellatrix's **gift** that she traced over Pansy's_ ), is visible. She doesn't realize that though. Maybe that's why Pansy's tone fills her with a mix of _anger-indigniation-sadness-fear-resignation_ , because she expects some kind of cutting criticism.

" What is _what_ , Pansy," Hermione says tiredly, and she doesn't even realize she's called her by her first name instead of her last. Apparently Pansy doesn't either. She grabs Hermione's wrist and turns her arm over pulling up the sleeve. Hermione really really hopes the other girl doesn't notice her pulse jump under her fingers( _of course she does, Pansy is fucking observant as hell. She just knows better than to comment on it right now_ ).

" Who did this?" Pansy asks.

" You, technically. First, I mean. B-Bellatrix..she saw my mark and carved it, the mudblood part, anyways," Hermione replies. Pansy is ashen. They don't really talk for the rest of the time they work on their Runes project.

* * *

 Pansy Parkinson does not _hate_ Hermione Granger, who is _good_ and _brave_ and _selfless_ and _kind_ and everything Pansy is _not_. She never _did_. Her _parents_ are another story. When Pansy Parkinson got her mark at six years old, she showed her father proudly. He was _not_ proud, not at _all_ , and neither was her mother. From the time she was six, Pansy was devoid of the easy affection her parents used to show her, and she knew why. They didn't like her mark. When she was older, she found out the reason she was practically fucking _raised_ by the house elves Dippy and Winny was because Granger is a _muggle_ name, and that made her the soul mate of, at most, the _halfblood_ daughter of a _muggle_. A _mudblood_.

By the time she's nine, she's resolved to _hate_ her soulmate( _perhaps a direct by-product of being backhanded in private during her own birthday party, because her sleeve rode up to reveal part of her mark and she was careless enough not to stop it from happening_ ). Pansy has written in stone on her little nine year old heart that Hermione Granger deserves her profuse hate; years later and she doesn't believe that at all, but surely it's too late.

* * *

 " You must hate me," Pansy comments. They lay alone in their dorm after a _very_ awkward day( _translation: Hermione tripped down the stairs and landed on Pany as she was walking up them; thankfully it was only three or four steps, but {un}fortunately Pansy ended up on top of Hermione, or rather her face landed on top of Hermione's. It was a sort-of kiss that Hermione fled from._ ), Hermione laying on her bed with the curtains shut resolutely reading a book and ignoring her soulmate's existence.

" Why? Any _particular_ reason, or shall I count the ways," Hermione snipes. She is not in the _mood_ for this, _damnit_. She just wants to read Dantë and forget _stupid Pansy_ with her _stupid lips_ and her _stupid everything_.

" Well, yes, a particular reason. Or, reasons. Your mark, and how I've treated you," Pansy replies. She's surprised to be confronted with a face full of angry Granger not five seconds later, and not ten inches from the armchair in which she sits.

" I don't _hate_ you you stupid _pillock_! I-Pansy..I never hated you. I was _angry_ , yes, at _you_ and at _me_ for-for-oh _forget_ it!" The moment Hermione turns to leave, Pansy jumps up after her.

" Wait, damnit Hermione don't run away again! I-oh, fuck, will you let me explain? Please? I know I don't really deserve it, but hear me out."

So, Pansy tells Hermione why( _things she's never told anyone else, not Daphne or Millicent or Blaise or Theo or Draco, because it's just not done and you just don't talk about being cursed by your family because pureblood pride and etiquette demand it so, demand that one's pain stay on the inside even if one feels it on the outside_ ). Hermione could definitely understand, and maybe someday forgive her. Maybe.

" But...why do you care about me now," she asks. Pansy smirks.

" Because after all of the shit that's happened, my parents aren't so scary anymore. Also, one of them is in Azkaban and the other is a little too _dead_ to do anything to me, sooo..."

So Hermione agrees to try, to be friends. And after all the _shit_ she's put her through, Pansy is excited she gets _that_ much of a chance.

* * *

 

It has been a good day for Ron, and it was about to get better. Fortescue's was up and running, and that meant he could go get his favorite ice cream. He walks inside the cool building, a relief from the sweltering heat of June, and orders from the man at the counter.

" I'd like a triple scoop choco-berry-whizzle-drizzle please," he asks.

After paying fifteen sickles, he goes outside to sit at one of the tables. This turns out to be not be an entirely wise move, as his ice cream quickly starts melting in the intense heat. Therefore, about one-sixth of the ice-cream cone's contents end up on his shirt, hands, and face. Suddenly, he feels eyes watching him, and looks up to see Daphne Greengrass glancing at him from the corner of her eyes. Unfortunately, this means she isn't looking where she's going, and she trips over something Ron can't quite see from where he sits, her packages flying into the air. He hurriedly pulls out his wand, catching them with a handy Arresto Momentum. Chucking his melted ice cream with a mournful look, Ron hurries over and reaches out a hand to help her up. This time, _she takes it_ , ice cream covered and sticky as it is.

The incident in Diagon is what brings them together, after a year of being apart. After he'd helped her get all her packages, and shed cleaned him up with a few spells, they'd ended up talking( _Ron thought he was dreaming, he was under the impression she'd hated him, she tells him for a long time she had, and no, it hadn't been his fault_ ). They spoke of expectations impressed upon them from birth( _so many came before you, brilliant Bill, courageous Charlie, straitlaced near-genius Percy, mischievous witty Fred and George, you need to be as good as everyone of them, better even; you are the eldest, the heiress to our house, you must be perfect, you are burdened with the weight of purpose that Tori is not, the one you join your hand with must be a Lord or Lady in their own right, they must be perfect, they must be pureblood, if Tori can do it why can't you{as if she could **choose** }_), and failing to meet them( _your grades are subpar, why can't you be as smart as your brothers?_ and _a blood traitor, really Daphne, and one with no standing, we're disappointed in you, you must tell no one!_ ).

 They end up having meetings at Ron's flat several times a month, and one day they invite Astoria and Draco( _the **ferret** , really Daphne? Oh hush Ronald he'd insist on coming anyways_). Astoria is, understandably, surprised by who Daphne's soulmate turned out being, though Daphne explained before she came to visit what really happened, just without names.

" Honestly, I'm not surprised it's Weasley," Draco says. Everyone looks at him.

" Why not?," Astoria asks.

" Well, never once in all the time I've known Daphne, or him, have I seen them actually talk to each other. However, he practically mooned after her every time he saw her, so..," he replies, leaving the rest of his sentence hanging. Ron flushes.

" I did not _moon_ , Malfoy. Never once in my entire _life_ have I _mooned_ ," he mutters. Astoria snorts, and Daphne looks amused.

" Now that Dray mentions it, you kind of did," Astoria replies to the petulant Gryffindor.

So it goes for the rest of the night, amiable conversation and witty, and some not so witty( _Weasel! Ferret! Boys, enough!_ ) rejoinders. By the time everyone leaves Ron's flat, it's 10 P.M. and everyone's a little tipsy from the sheer amount of Butterbeer they've had.

* * *

 It's been a long day. Daphne is an apprentice healer, which means she gets the _shit-shifts_ in the middle of the _bloody night_ and _still_ gets called in the next day. Just such a thing has happened, and now it's 9 at night and she just wants to floo back to the manor and go the bloody fuck to sleep, but _noooooooo_ , there's an _auror_ who nearly got his _leg_ turned into ground _hamburger_ , and _You're needed in Ward Five, Healer Greengrass_. So, Daphne _fucking_ takes the _fucking_ lift to Ward _fucking_ Five. When she walks into room 3, she's looking over her shoulder at Healer Boot and replying to some inane comment of his, and as she has not yet looked in the room is surprised by the sheepish voice from within.

" Hi."

" _Ronald_? Ronald, what the _fuck_ did you _do_? Why the _fuck_ are you in here at _nine o'clock in the fucking night_?!"

" Erm, it's not my fault I swear. This little jack-arse was selling cursed amulets to muggles, and usually that would be a problem for Dad, except the amulets were meant to kill so it was an auror thing, and he hit my leg with a reducto as soon as he saw my robes," Ron rambled. If not for the numbing spells he probably wouldn't have been able to talk at all.

" What am I going to do with you," Daphne mutters under her breath. Apparently he hears her.

" Fix my leg?" he asks hopefully.

* * *

 A few months later, at one of their hang-out-meet-up-whatever-the-hell-it-is, tongues loosened by Ogden's Finest, they have one of their most honest conversations to date.

" I love you," he declares, and is a bit too drunk to regret it. Daphne looks very, very confused.

" _Why_? Why would you love me, better yet how!?"

" I always have. You're nice, you care about people, you're bloody brilliant, you fixed me, well, my leg," he replies easily. She sighs.

" But, Ronald, how do you know that's not just you being drunk? What have I _ever_ done to deserve you loving me?"

" 'Cause Daph, I feel the exact same when I'm _not_ drunk. And nobody has to do anything to _deserve_ love, love just _happens_."

" You shouldn't! I-Ronald, for so long I didn't love you back! I was _awful_ to you, horrible and mean and _cruel_!"

" Daphne, I'm not the only one who's ever fallen in love with someone who didn't love them in return. Unrequited love existed long before you and I, and, well, anyone else our age. And just because you didn't love me back doesn't mean I'm going to stop, or that you don't deserve it. And even if you still don't love me back, even now, well, I'll still love you. I won't bring it up, I won't make our friendship awkward, but I'll still love you," Ron replies.

By the end of his declaration( _and if Hermione ever heard him talk like that, she would have to revise her own declaration that he has the emotional range of a teaspoon_ ), he's moved to sit beside Daphne on the lumpy red couch in his flat's living room. Daphne looks at her soulmate through teary eyes, and has to wonder again why she treated such a sweet boy like shit. Hesitantly they lace fingers.

" You won't make it awkward Ronald. I..I love you too. I think I have for a very long time. And when we were still children, that made me angry, at myself, and you. I was angry for a lot of reasons, and I should never taken it out on you," Daphne whispers quietly. Ron looks at her carefully.

" We, well, we don't have to _do_ anything, or _be_ anything to each other-"

His words cut off when she presses a soft kiss to his cheek. He turns red and gapes at her like a fish out of water. Gently she closes his mouth with two fingers on his chin.

" I think it would probably be good to take it slow, but Ronald? We kind of already _are_ something to each other," Daphne reminds him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, I can give happy endings.


	6. Love is patient love is kind love will make you lose your mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But he didn’t know how to love. He could talk about love. He could see love and feel love. But he couldn’t give love. He could make love. But he couldn’t make promises. She had desperately wanted his promises.  
> She wanted his heart, knew she couldn’t have it so she took what she could get. Temporary bliss. Passionate highs and lows. Withdrawal and manipulation.  
> ―GG Renee Hill,The Beautiful Disruption
> 
> "She’d let him enter her spirit and stroke her soul where everything is love and sensation and surrender. Wide open, exposed to deception. It had never occurred to her that this desire was not love. It was blinding the way she wanted him.  
> ―GG Renee Hill, The Beautiful Disruption  
> "Do people always fall in love with things they can't have?'  
> 'Always,' Carol said, smiling, too.”  
> ―Patricia Highsmith,The Price of Salt  
> "We are two broken people, whose pieces magically fit together to make something beautiful and new.”  
> ― Tamsyn Bester,Beneath Your Beautiful  
> Tom doesn't understand love.
> 
> Ginny doesn't realize she already has it.
> 
> Harry wants it more than anything in the world.
> 
> HarryandGinny may be broken but they have more love than HarryandTom or TomandGinny ever did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fracking AO3, deleting my work five times in a row. Anyways here you go, angst that ends happy.

Tom doesn't understand love. He never has. Tom knows possessiveness, and affection, but not love. Perhaps because he has nobody to love him. Sometimes Tom is afraid that what the other orphans say is true, that his soulmate will hate him, or that he doesn't have one, is an Unrequited.

" I bet Tom's soulmate is a loony! I mean, there's no such thing as a _basilisk_!" Amy cackles. Mrs. Cole hears, and starts walking over.

" Have you seen his _mark_? I bet it's a nancy-boy, that writing don't look like no girl's that I've ever seen!," yells Billy.

" Oh _please_ , he's probably Unrequited, nobody could love _Tom_!," shouts Tanner.

By this time, Mrs. Cole is close enough to see the pained expression on Tom's face. She's also close enough to see it twist into something _venomous_.

" Maybe so, maybe not, but I think you all have other things to do. Amy, aren't you going to the _corner_ store? And shouldn't you _clean_ your room, Billy? And Tanner, spiff yourself up, take some pride in your appearance, wouldn't want to look like an _urchin_ after all!"

Now, to the casual observer, these wouldn't sound like insults. However, Tom's every word and emphasis had calculated meaning to Amy( _How much does it cost for a night with you dollface, I heard it was a few dollars.._ ), Billy( _Ugh, slob!_ ), and Tanner( _Get out of the way, you filthy urchin!_ ). It seemed Mrs. Cole knew this, but she _also_ knew the others had started it, no matter what they claimed, and considering the subject matter of their insults, she didn't punish Tom for once( _of course, Mrs. Cole's soulmate had died, and she couldn't abide anyone being cruel about the soulmate of another_ ).

* * *

 Ginny Weasley has always felt a strange ache in her chest that she can't explain( _she doesn't know that it's something all Unrequited feel_ ). After she got the diary, and with it Tom, the ache abated, mostly. The more she spoke with him, the less it became. Ginny tells Tom everything. She tells him all about school and magic, and poor sad Harry Potter, and her brother who's soulmate was cruel, and Harry and Ron's friend Hermione who's soulmate was just as cruel as Ron's. The more of her emotions she gives him, the stronger he gets, until he appears to her like an apparition for several seconds, and says two words that change her life( _for better or for worse_?).

" _Hello_ , _you_."

She tells him, of course. The diary shakes, with excitement Ginny thinks( _really, it's laughter, because there's no way in hell she's his soulmate, her handwriting doesn't even match the words on his chest!_ ). Of course, he doesn't contradict her, and now the cocktail of emotion( _happiness-adoration-devotion-love-admiration_ ) that flows into the diary, into him, is even stronger than before.

He almost(ha, no, not really) feels bad for the girl, because she comes to him terrified, telling him of blackouts and blurred memories and strange emotions she knows aren't hers, feelings of anger and rage, and of voices in the walls and voices in her head and

_Am I crazy Tom? What's wrong with me Tom?_

_Nothing's wrong with you Ginevra, perhaps you just need sleep?_

_Ok Tom, if you say so._

* * *

 When Harry was very young, he used to lie in his cupboard and daydream, anything to distract him from pain and loneliness and a growling stomach. He mostly daydreamed about who his soulmate would be, someone strong and courageous, somebody to love him( _even though he was bad-stupid-freak-burden_ ), to rescue him. When he got his mark, he started dreaming it was some foreign adventurer like Sinbad, one to take him away. When he first heard the tale of the Forty Thieves, he was ecstatic. Avada Kedavra sounded an awful lot like Abra Kedabra, after all. That's when the seven year old started to imagine his soulmate was the King of Thieves, who would take him on adventures.

By the time Harry was ten, he didn't daydream about his soulmate. When he was eleven, he found out his soulmate was a madman, a murderer, a thief who stole his parents lives and the lives of so many others. But that didn't mean a part of him didn't still ache for the soulmate that could have been. The one he saw next to him in the Mirror of Erised, a boy with wavy black hair, grey-blue eyes, fair skin, aristocratic features, and a warm smile just for _him_. 

The next time he's in front of that mirror, he sees his soulmate on the back of somebody's(Quirrell's) head. He looks different and wrong and just being near him is enough to make his soulmark hurt. That pain stays with him for days, until he isn't sure if it's the mark hurting or just him.

In fourth year when he sees him, when his _blood_ andCedric's _life_ are stolen, by his soulmate. By this point Harry is sure he hates the man, this twisted version of the diary-boy he almost loved. They fight, come to a stalemate, and they escape. When he tells them Voldemort is alive, they have to believe him, because of the almost glowing words on his chest. Albus looks sad, Fudge looks like he's going to have a heart attack and tries to deny it, but in the end, it's proven true and every rag in the magical world runs the sob story of Harry Potter and his soulmate.

* * *

 "  _Tom, please, we have to go it's not safe, there's a basilisk in here somewhere_!"

Ok, when he told Tom this, he expected general terror. Not smiles and chuckles.

" Don't worry Harry, I won't let the basilisk hurt you," Tom assures with a warm smile, one reflected in his eyes. Harry looks incredibly skeptical, mainly because it's a _fucking_ _basilisk_ they're talking about, not a _damn_ _garden_ _snake_!

" Um, Tom, you don't seem to know what a basilisk is, I don't really think you can stop it if it puts its mind up to something.." Harry mumbles. Tom just smiles again( _this really needs to stop, because it's distracting and Harry can't concentrate on the problem when Tom smiles and makes him feel funny inside, even if it is good-funny_ ).

" Harry, ∮ _Moira won't hurt you if I say not to, she only listens to me. And you, once I tell her to_ ∮," Tom replies. And oh, it all makes sense now, sense in an awful way he wishes it wouldn't. Wonderful smart funny handsome Tom, Tom who gives him strange feelings, Tom is the Heir.

" How could you Tom!? Why would you open the Chamber? Tom, my friend got _petrified_! She almost _died!_ ," Harry exclaims, distraught. Tom looks incredulous.

" _Why_!? Because of _you_! I've waited more than forty _years_ to hear you speak! I opened it before, waited in here for someone to come tell me to leave, it's not safe there's a basilisk! So, I made the Weasley girl open it again, and it _worked_ , you're _here_ ," Tom replies. For a moment, Harry is dead silent. Then, he speaks.

" Tom, who are you really?" he whispers quietly.

" The sixteen year old diary-entrapped self of Tom Marvolo Riddle, I told you Harry. Well, part of him anyways."

" And do you know what the rest of him grew up to be?" Harry challenges. Tom looks conflicted, before nodding.

" But Harry, once I am complete, we can _overthrow_ him, we can rule instead, _together_! Join me Harry," Tom says fervently.

As he spoke he walked closer to Harry before taking a knee in front of where Harry kneels by Ginevra, and reaches out a hand to trace the side of Harry's face. Harry almost crumbles, and Tom can see the conflicting emotions on his face. Then, Harry's face goes expressionless except for his sad, sad eyes. And Tom knows.

" Not if people have to die for it. I'm _sorry_ Tom."

After everything is said and done, after Harry has plunged the fang into the diary( _Harry don't!     I'm sorry Tom, I love you, or might have_ ), almost died, been flown out of the Chamber by Fawkes with Ron, Ginny, and Lockheart, and been released from the infirmary, Harry Ron and Hermione meet up in their spot by the lake, and Harry tells them everything. They hold him while he sobs, wish they could answer his questions of _why why why, why can't I be happy, I almost gave in, am I evil_?

* * *

When Harry meets Voldemort in the forest, he uses a privacy spell, so he can have a few words with the man he once called Tom.

_I could have loved you._

_Love is a weakness. Love is why you will die._

_Fitting though, isn't it?_

_Indeed._

Soon he will wake up on the forest floor, but for now he speaks with Albus one last time.

_Did you meet Gellert here?_

_Yes._

_Do you think when I go I'll meet Tom?_

_Perhaps, Harry. However, there are many years between now and your final rest. You may wake up on a day in the future and find your heart does not long for him._

_Maybe._  

* * *

 A little bit later, the two broken people with Tom Riddle Jr's words burned ashy over their hearts find solace in each other. Harry's jagged edges and broken pieces fit with Ginny's, like a strange puzzle of heart and soul. They go out and get tattoos instead of soulmarks( _their first words to each other, a fiery red **Good luck!** on Harry's right shoulder and **Are you starting at Hogwarts this year?** in the shade of green that matches Harry's eyes on Ginny's_ ), from an Unrequited who doesn't judge.

A few months after graduation Ginny moves into Grimmauld Place with Harry and they renovate it together. Eventually Hermione and Pansy and Ron and Daphne move in, when having just each other near is not quite enough and the flashbacks start and they shake and shiver and need people to ground them. Within a month of moving in Harry has banned everyone but himself and Kreacher from the kitchen because ' _None of you can bloody cook! Morgana's tits, you could burn water!_ '. Everyone grumbles at this totally unfair statement. But as the years go by, they all get a little less broken, a little less sad. And maybe all was not well, but it was getting there.


	7. Wolves don't get happy endings...do their cubs?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus doesn't think you can love a wolf. He knows a wolf can love others though, because he loves his pack, decimated though it be, and his two cubs.
> 
> Teddy is a little boy(sometimes), who loves everyone and everything. He loves his Angel Mummy and Angel Daddy, his big bubba, and his big sissa, his Grammies, Augie Molly and Andy, his Poppy Arthur, his Uncles, Ron Dray Nev George Bill Charlie Percy and Ollie, his Aunties, Mione Luna Katie Fleur Pansy Tori and Daffy, and his soulmate, who writes real pretty. Actually, Teddy loves everbody.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two things; first, I am sorry I took so long to update, I've been busy with my mother and papa's funeral arrangements, as well as general high school stuff, and secondly, sorry for the crappy quality of this, I wrote it on my phone. OK, three things I guess, third being that I will slap on quotes later because this damn phone is going to send me into fuckibg conniptions.

When Remus was six, bubble gum pink messy writing spelled out _My name is Nymphadora, but call me that and I'll kick you in the jewels!_ across the base of his spine. Little Remus wondered what he was supposed to call her then.

When Remus is eight, Fenrir Greyback bites him, and leaves him to die. The wolf's parting words are  _See who will love a wolf, boy; nobody, that's who!_

* * *

Remus John Lupin has never told anyone he's a werewolf. The only ones who know are his parents, Madam Pompfrey, and Albus Dumbledore. At least, thats what he thinks, until second year when little Peter Pettigrew asks at one in the morning in their dorm, and Sirius Black of all people snaps vigourously to his defence.

Not with the expected  _Of course he isn't, how could you say that!_ sort of defence, but with a half-yell of righteous indignation and  _So what if he is you wanker! He's still a Marauder, and he's still our friend!_

James agrees vehemently, his determined expression practically daring someone to pop out of the aether and disagree. Peter hastily adds he didn't mean anything by it, and all are appeased.

Remus is just ecstatic that his friends still love him.

* * *

Remus has only been totally in sync with Moony a few times in his life. And only about select things. Things like who his pack is, for example. This is one such time. Looking down tenderly at the little black haired baby in his arms, he and his wolf agree, this is  _Cub, protect cub, love him, cub is small, must keep him safe._ He doesn't see the glow of his eyes, but the others do, and know it means little Harry is one of the safest babies in the world. 

Remus knows he will never have his own cub, ( _wolves never get happy endings, and neither did the first Remus, actually_ ), but holding Harry in his arms, he's OK with that, more than OK. All he needs is his pack( _that will be destroyed in a year and a half, Wormy a traitor who he'll think is dead, Paddy who'll be locked away and be thought a traitor, Prongsy and Tigerlily murdered, and Bambi-Cub crying his eyes out on a dust cot in the cupboard under the stairs, wondering 'Where mummy, where daddy, where Wo-my Mooey Paddy?'_ )

* * *

When he sees his cub again, the child does not know him. When the boy wakes up from the effects of the dementor and asks  _who screamed, a girl was screaming is she OK? ,_ he feels like crying because he just knows that his cub heard his mother's last moments.

Later that year he will teach his cub how to cast a patronus, and tell Harry that his patronus is his father's, as well as the spitting image of his animagus form, and the boy will beam at him.

* * *

When Harry is fifteen, he makes Remus see sense about his soulmate.

" Harry I can't, don't you understand? Its not fair to her!"

"  _Life isn't fair Moony_!"

" Harry she deserves a happy ending, I can't give her that!"

" Life isn't a fairytale! You don't always get a happy ending! Some people  _never will_!"

" Cub? What do you mean? Are you talking about you?"

" Don't change the subject."

"..."

" Fine. Yes, I'm talking about me, happy? I won't get a happy ending, but you can, if you try! Please, don't waste having a soulmate who actually loves you."

" Harry, how do you know for sure? People change their minds, maybe your soulmate will change theirs?"

" Well, old Tommy boy has tried to kill me, what, five times now? No, I don't think he'll stop now."

For a moment, he's in shock. Oh, Remus knows exactly who Harry,  _his cub his poor cub,_ is the soulmate of, and he feels awful.

" Harry, I.."

" Now do you know why I told you to go for it?"

* * *

A few years later, Remus dies fighting for his cubs, so that they can have better lives. He dies with his mate, Nymphadora "Don't bloody call me that" Lupin-Tonks, and while he knows hell miss them, his beautiful little boy and his strong brave young man, he knows in his heart they'll be safe.

About an hour after he dies, the Resurrection Stone pulls him back to his first cub. With Lily and James and Siri he comforts him, and when Harry asks about Teddy, Remus assures him Andy will take care of him, and that he'll grow up loved, and know his parents and brother died fighting for him. Harry, for a moment, is stunned. 

_Teddy has a brother?_

_Well, yes. I've always considered you my cub._

Harry's smile is blinding, lighting up his worn, battered, too young face and his tired, scared, too old eyes. 

They are his Honor Guard, and walk with him to Death's cold embrace and the murderer that is his almost love.

* * *

Six years later, Teddy wakes up with periwinkle ' _Ello? You are Teddy, yes?_ down his spine. Harry and Ginny are peppered with questions. And Harry tells his not-so-baby brother that his mum and dad had their marks on their backs too. Teddy is happy, because this means he has something in common with both his parents, not just his mum. Then he exitedly asks about theirs.

Teddy doesn't understand the aggrieved looks that the two twenty three year olds suddenly sport, until they explain about a little boy who fell in love with an imaginary adventurer and emerald death, a little girl who fell in love with her own greeting in green, a little boy who was cold and harsh to everyone but the first boy(who he destroyed the life of when he grew older), the handsome funny kind smart Tom-in-the-Diary who they loved dearly, and the Chamber that ruined it all. They tell him about the Forest and the Last Battle. And Teddy cries.

Teddy is a child with bright eyes and brighter hair, with so much love in his heart that there's noroom for anything else, and that same heart has broken into a million pieces for bubba and sissa, cause they don't have someone to love them anymore.

They explain though, that they have each other, and Teddy, and that's all they've ever needed, really. Teddy says he won't talk about his mark if it bothers them, but they promise it doesn't, and show him their tatoos, and tell him they made their own happy ending together.


	8. The fire in my heart does not burn for you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “...unrequited love does not die; it's only beaten down to a secret place where it hides, curled and wounded. For some unfortunates, it turns bitter and mean, and those who come after pay the price for the hurt done by the one who came before.”  
> ― Elle Newmark, The Book of Unholy Mischief
> 
> Severus loved her fiercely, for all that she loved him as a brother. Perhaps in parallel a part of him hated Regulus just as much, for being in love with him where Lily was not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All aboard the angst train, choo choo. But hey, bet at least some of you have been waiting for the Severus chapter, here ya go. Also, this chapter is a little heavy, and some of the warning tags apply.

Because he has two marks, his father thinks him more of a freak than he already does. _(At least one of 'em is a girl. I ain't gonna have no Nancy boy for a son, you hear me?---_ And _oh,_ he hears loud and clear). He meets _Hello, my name is Lily, nice to meet you._ when he's nine, and is ecstatic for all of five seconds before he realizes either his soulmate is an arse, or he's Unrequited. As it turns out, the latter is true. After all, the flame haired Lily Evans is sweet and kind and good, and maybe, Severus thinks to himself, maybe it's a good thing that she isn't stuck with a scrawny weirdo like him. He even tries to console himself with the thought that at least he won't have a harpy for a sister-in-law. No, scratch that, Petunia is a banshee.

* * *

When he's eleven, Severus meets James Potter. Biggest bloody case of hate-at-first-sight you ever did see. James said some things, Severus said some things, Sirius said some things, Lily told them to leave the compartment( _the hurt in her emerald eyes is palpable, it's clear that her soulmate's being mean to her first and best friend does not sit well with her. Severus hates to see her sad, but he's having a hard time not doing a little victory dance when Mr. Birds-Nest-Hair is made to leave)._

Severus, of course, comforts Lily over the fact that James is a jerk, hypocritically ignoring the fact that he kind of was too. Lily determines that she won't speak to James again until he apologizes to Severus, who points out that if she plans to do that then she may never speak to James again.

* * *

Severus meets his other soulmate when he is twelve, and he could swear to god that his father is going to kill him. Because Regulus Arcturus Black is a boy. Not a girl. It figures, with his luck, that the only soulmate his parents would actually accept is Unrequited, and the one who _is_ Requited is a boy. Freaking wonderful. Ignoring the voice in the back of his mind that is screaming at him( _what's wrong with you he loves you someone loves you don't throw it away all because of a man who doesn't and a woman who can't!!)_ Severus quietly informs the boy that he could never possibly feel the same, because, well, he's not bent, and also, he has another soulmate who he's in love with.. Severus steadfastly ignores the watery lavender eyes full of crushed hope, and turns away from Regulus.

* * *

Severus is in his fifth year when he irreparably breaks his bond with Lily. He wants to die, the cold ache in his heart consuming him. Why why _why_ did he say that!? He's ruined seven years of friendship because he couldn't keep his damn mouth shut! No matter how much he apologizes, Lily won't forgive him. And damnit, he's tried everything. He even waited outside of the Gryffindor common room just to talk to her and she walked straight by. Sirius Black didn't though. Sirius Black, who seems content to torment him, where before seemingly without purpose( _oh if only Snivellus knew, just what he'd done by callously breaking Reggie's heart, then maybe he'd understand the animosity held for him by the Heir of House Black)_ , now coldly states _that's for Evans, arsehole,_ when mercilessly hexing him. ( _The only reason Sirus didn't specify why he was doing this before was because he thought it was fairly obvious. Well, it would be to anyone who really knew how he felt about his baby brother)._

* * *

The roof and part of the wall are blown away. Detritus lies scattered all over the nursery. The child wails. Severus sees only Lily, still and cold in Death's embrace. He doesn't even realize he's crying until the chilly October wind makes his tears feel frigid on his face. All he can do is hold the lifeless body of his best friend in the world, the woman he loved, his Unrequited. A dim part of his mind thinks this is cosmic retribution for rejecting Regulus, and leaving the boy in pain, unloved by his own soulmate. The rest of his mind is occupied with the searing pain on his shoulder blade where an emerald green mark burned to ash and scar tissue an hour and a half ago. Faintly Severus realizes, now both of his marks match.

* * *

He _hates_ the two of them. The Boy-Who-Lived-Instead-Of-Lily and The-Boy-Who-Wasn't-Chosen. One as arrogant as his father and the other one a bumbling dunderhead. And Potter has Lily's eyes. The same expressive emerald green orbs that radiate sadness, happiness, and anger as the emotions are felt. Just like Lily. He knows it's irrational, but he hates the boys.

* * *

Its a little harder to hate Potter after being in his mind. He saw a cupboard, and a human walrus, and _Tuney._ He saw a little Potter clone( _except the eyes Lily's eyes_ ) get backhanded for burning the bacon on Diddlykin's special day. Watched as Potter tried not to cry, eyes filling with tears and pain as he is told _Freak! Worthless, good for nothing layabout, just like your drunkard parents!_. And, perhaps most importantly, he's seen the boy's _mark._ Not in person, obviously, but in a memory. Specifically, one of the boy at age six, in his cupboard. Little-Memory-Potter traces the green words on his emaciated slightly bruised chest in childish wonder, sounding out the words, or attempting to anyways. Severus pulls rapidly out of the memory.

" Leave, we are done here."

" Lessons don't end until-"

" Until I say they do! Leave boy before I throw you out myself!"

Severus ignores the subtle flinch at his increase in volume, and waits until the boy leaves to drink himself into a stupor. It's just as well that he has no classes the next day. If the students were terrified of him now, wait until they see him hungover...

* * *

" You really don't get it, do you, _Snivellus_?!"

" What the hell is that supposed to mean, mutt? Do you expect me to believe you've an honest excuse for your deplorable, reprehensible behavior, both at present and in the past?

" Yeah, I do you sanctimonious, heartless bag of dicks! You know why I hate you? Because of what you did to my fuckin' brother! It's your fault he's dead!," Sirius screams. Everyone in Grimmauld place is paying rapt attention, even Walburga's portrait.

" What are you talking about? I did nothing to him, I barely spoke to the boy! He's dead because he angered the Dark Lord!"

" Oh yes, nothing much, just denied him his soulmate, refused to consider him at all, since you only had eyes for Evans! You fucking broke him! And also, the only bloody reason he joined Voldemort was to protect you, you belligerent twat!"

" How did I break him!? Regulus was perfectly fine!"

" Oh yes, perfectly fine, if your definition of fine is locking yourself in unused classrooms and crying, if your definition of fine is not eating enough, if your definition of fine is _trying to throw yourself off of the goddamned Astronomy Tower, multiple times_!!!"

This time, the reply does not come from Severus.

" **_FILTHY HALF-BLOOD SCUM! SON OF MUGGLE FILTH! HOW DARE YOU! MY BOY WANTED TO DIE BECAUSE OF YOU!_** " the portrait screams. For once, Sirius and Walburga Black agree on something.

Severus, for his part, stands shocked and pale. He never imagined that he could've affected Regulus so. Sirius takes the time to continue his own rant.

" So you wanna know why I made your life hell, why I convinced the others you were the scum of the earth!? It's because I was _returning the favor_! I tried to get you killed after the second time I kept Reggie from killing _himself_! So now you know Snivellus, why I hate your fucking guts! You were lucky enough to get two soulmarks, and even though one was Unrequited the other wasn't, but you didn't fucking care! Not only that, but you _ruined_ my _brother_! You as good as killed him!"

Severus leaves Grimmauld Place in a daze, and doesn't come back for two weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to post; like I said in the previous chapter's author's note, I've had a bunch of stuff going on. Also yeah I lied pretty much all he warning tags apply strictly to this chapter(for now) except the implied referenced child abuse. And the one about happy endings(what are those again?).


	9. In the end we're alright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " I saw that you were perfect, and so I loved you. Then I saw that you were not perfect and I loved you even more."
> 
> — Angelita Lim
> 
> Percy and Oliver have had their issues, but they've always supported each other. No matter how pissed at each other they get.

They don't meet on the train. Or right before the sorting. Or even at dinner. In fact, they meet when someone has the  _gall_ to put their things on Percy Weasley's chosen bed, even though his trunk is already at the foot of it. Thus begins the strangest exchange of soul words this century( _i said strangest, not saddest)._

" Excuse me, but what are you doing on my bed," Percy asks, fairly indignant. The curly headed brunet just grins, a slow crooked grin, before saying something that Percy really did not expect. 

" Yours huh? Well, why don't we share it."

Periwinkle and Gryffindor scarlet marks glow slightly and branch out with color. Percy Weasley turns a shade of red that clashes with his hair and gapes like a fish. Both of those things have to do with the fact that a). his soulmate is right in front of him and b). that was an incredibly cheeky remark, punctuated by an exaggerated wink.

Oliver just grins, happy at the stunned lemming effect he has produced.

* * *

 When he is told he's made the team as keeper, Oliver shrieks like a girl and runs up to the castle and to the library to tell Percy, still in his practice gear.

Percy can't even find it in himself to scold Oliver for getting them kicked out of the library. Instead he bestows Oliver with a chaste kiss on the cheek, making that the official best day ever in Oliver's books.

* * *

Soooo, Percy  _may_ be over reacting, just a bit. But, well, the electives he chooses now will prepare him for later life and effect the job he gets and he just wants to work in the ministry like dad and this is hard damnit because he doesn't know  _where_ in the Ministry he wants to work and what if he picks the wrong thing and they don't even hire him just take one look at his resume and  _We have no use for you here-_

" PERCIVAL IGNATIUS WEASLEY I'VE BEEN YELLIN AT YE FER HALF AN HOUR!"

Percy snaps his head around and stares at Oliver. Incidentally, so does the entirety of the common room.

" Finally. Now come on, you need a break," Oliver says, tugging Percy up by the arm. He leads the other boy down several ever changing stair cases and outside, to a spot by the lake.

" So Perce, what had you all worried?"

" I-I just..I have to do this right. I have to choose electives right to get the right job and support the family and I don't know what to choose-"

" Perce?"

" Yes Ollie?"

" You're twelve. You don't need to worry about that. Just take a deep breath and calm down, you've got four months to choose electives."

" Ollie?"

" Yes Perce?"

" Thank you."

* * *

**PERCYPERCYPERCYPERCYPERCYPERCYPERCYPERCYPERCYPERCYPERCYPERCYPERCYPERCYPERCYPERCYPERCYPERCYPERCYPERCYPERCYPERCYPERCPERCYPERCY GUESS WHAT WAIT YE CAN'T ANSWER ME CAUSE THIS BE A HOWLER BUT ANWAYS WHO HAS TWO THUMBS AND IS TEAM CAPTAIN THATS RIGHT PERCY ITS THIS GUY!! AND GUESS WHAT ELSE AHM THA YOUNGEST TEAM CAPTAIN OF A HOGWARTS TEAM EVER IN YOUR FECKIN FACE FLINT! ANYWAYS I WANTED TO TELL YOU THAT AND SAY HI, SO HI PERCE AND YOU TOO ASSORTED WEASLEYS WHO MIGHT BE WITH PERCE- Ollie why are you writing a howler you know you don't need to scream into it right? The howler will do the screaming for you-THATS ME MAM PERCE, SAY HI MAM- Hello Percy..wait I thought you were friends with Percy why are you writing the boy a howler- BECAUSE AHM _SO EXCITED_!-Next time just write him a normal letter dear- BUT THIS IS FUN MAM ANYWAYS BYE PERCE OH WAIT HOW DID CHOOSING YER ELECTIVES GO I HOPE YE ARENT STILL IN A TIZZY ABOUT THEM IF NOTHIN ELSE PLAY EENIE MEENIE MINEY MOE, THAT HELPS ME WHEN I CAIN'T DECIDE OH I GOTTA GO NOW WE'RE GONNA FLOO TO ME GRAM'S HOUSE IN LIVERPOOL OK BYE PERCE! ** "

Everyone at the breakfast table stared. Percy's ears turned red. Ginny asked if Oliver was his boyfriend and Percy choked on his oatmeal.

* * *

 This wasn't the fist time the twins had tried to convince Percy to make Oliver lay off in practices. It was the first time they'd brought the rest of the team with them. It was just shy of five am when Percy was dragged out of bed by cold wet hands, down the stairs, and plopped in an arm chair in the common room.

Before him stood the entirety of the soaked, bedraggled, half-asleep Gryffindor quidditch team. OK, well, not all of them fit that description. Tiny Harry Potter looked as wide awake as ever.

" What is the meaning of this?" Percy mumbled tiredly.

Unsurprisingly, the twins spoke first.

" The meaning of this is that-"

" If you don't get your ruddy boyfriend under control-"

" We're going to McGonagall!" they chorused in unison. The others nodded emphaticly.

" He woke us up at four o'clock to practice Percy," Katie added.

"Think of the children!," Fred and George wailed, picking up Harry and waving him in Percy's face, much to the small boy's consternation.

" Ow, hey, put me down please. Thank you. Anyways, its not that bad, I have to get up this early at the Dursley's to get my chores done on time and be able to cook breakfast. At least what we're getting up for is fun," Harry objected. Other than some worry about the chores remark, his protest was promptly ignored in favour of listening to Percy's answer.

" Four on a Saturday isn't that bad, at least you can go to bed later-"

" No, we can't, Oliver set up an all day schedule. From four to six we practice, break for fifteen minute breakfast, practice from six fifteen until twelve, fifteen minute break for lunch, twelve fifteen until six is more practice, then fifteen minutes for supper, before practice from six fifteen until ten thirty. We're going to  _die_ Percy. Cormac is probably already dead."

" What do you mean, what happened to Cormac?" Percy asked apprehensively. Harry answers, green eyes solemn.

" Oliver tackled him before he could fly away. Last we saw he was in the mud, being sat on by Oliver."

" Ok fine I'll talk to him."

* * *

 It had been their biggest fight yet. Nonetheless, there Percy sat, bundled up in his a jacket, coat, knit cap, his mothers blue and gold Weasley sweater,  and his Gryffindor scarf, waving a red and gold pennant and despite all of his excessive clothing freezing his arse off. Why? Because Oliver was playing Slytherin and would want him there.

* * *

 "  WHAT DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND ABOUT THIS OLIVER!? I'M DOING THIS TO PROTECT MY FAMILY! IF HE'S BACK THE FIRST PLACE HE'LL INFILTRATE IS THE MINISTRY-"

" AN THATS WHY AHM BLOODY WELL WORRIED PERCY! IF SOMEONE FINDS YER FEEDIN INFERMATION TA THA ORDER, NO MATTER HOW ANONYMOUSLY, YER BUGGERED, DONE FER! YE'LL BE THROWN INTA AZKABAN FER TREASON!"

Here Oliver chokes up, unable to continue. Percy just hugs his boyfriend close, whispering reassurances.

* * *

 Steel blue eyes and curly red hair. Ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes. Their little girl is perfect. Oliver and Percy couldn't be more enchanted with their baby girl.

Molly, of course, fusses endlessly over baby Mauve, named for Oliver's mother who was murdered during the war. Harry can barely hold her without freaking out, convinced that he's going to break her with a touch. Actually, most of his brothers are much the same. Ginny, however, is sweet and calm and holds Mauve much the same as she holds Teddy, making sure to support her head and her bottom, cooing at her as if its the most natural thing in the world. George is still in one of the many chairs that Daphne made the staff of St. Mungo's drag in ( _and oh wasn't that a battle, morons had the gall to tell her that "We can't fit that many chairs in the room," only to be hexed and reminded about "wizard space you dunderheads!!")_ crying his eyes out over Mauve Frieda Weasley-Wood, named in part for the Weasley she looks most like. Angelina and Katie comfort him, sniffling a bit themselves. Pansy and Astoria have already started planning the baby's wardrobe, much to the horror of Hermione and Draco because  _shopping._ Shopping which they just know they'll have to accompany their significant others for. Ron and Neville laugh until their wives join in with Pansy and Astoria, Luna and Dphne making suggestions and _where in the hell did they get color swatches_? Arthur holds a sleepy Teddy and dazedly looks on at his enormous family with a fond smile, not even noticing Teddy gumming on his tie. Charlie chatters on about the similarities of baby dragons to baby humans to anyone listening. I.E., nobody really. He doesn't mind though. Bill and Fleur give Percy and Oliver quiet congratulations. Victoire sleeps soundlessly in Bill's arms.

Percy couldn't ask for a more perfect day, even though he's bone tired, his whole body aches despite the potions, his room is small and the amount of people in it large. He's perfectly happy on this day, with his husband and family and baby girl.


	10. Here there be Dragons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " You cannot help but think, “How funny, to miss something I never had”, which is inevitably followed by a sore smile and a forced laugh.You’ll inevitably blame yourself. The thought of it all being so out of your control leaves you helplessly incapable of comprehension, so you turn inward. Perhaps if you were stronger or smarter or better prepared for such unconditional love. Maybe if you were optimistic or perpetually happy or anyone other than who you really, truly, unequivocally are. Then maybe, just maybe, they’d still be there."  
> -Danielle Campoamor
> 
> Charlie didn't have to wait until six for his soulmark. He was born with it. That's not a good thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, sorry I haven't been posting for a while, but hey I'm back. Second, there don't be dragons here, there be an evil author who wants to make you cry.

While Molly waits for them to hand her Charlie, she speaks excitedly, if tiredly, to Arthur and little William. They are interrupted by a grim faced Healer, who gives a sad look to the baby in his arms before handing said baby to Molly. At first she doesn't ( _want to_ ) see what's wrong. Charlie has ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes, soft skin and red curls, and a knotted burn scar several months old that stretches from the top of his right shoulder to his elbow. On that burn is a smear of grey. At first her eyes slide over it but now oh, _oh,_ **oh** her baby her poor baby.

"Arthur," she chokes, clutching his hand, and he squeezes hers, at a loss for words.

Her brothers Fabian and Gideon, her mother Dareah, and her mother and father in-laws all say sympathetic things, but she can't quite hear them over the buzz in her ears and the constant thought, mantra really, of _why why why what have I done, it must be my fault._

* * *

It's fifth year, and McGonagall's called him to her office for 'Career Counciling'. _Pssh._ As if he needs this. Charlie already knows what he's going to do, he's known since he was seven and really understood what the _smear_ and _burn_ on his arm really meant. 

" A dragon trainer."

Minerva chokes on her tea. 

" I'm sorry, you want to be _what_ Mr. Weasley?"

Surely she can't have heard him correc-

" A dragon trainer, professor. I've always wanted to be one," Charlie affirms.

Minerva cannot for the life of her understand why he'd want such a deadly profession.

" Whatever _for_ Mr. Weasley? With your grades, you could get a position in the Ministry easily, and with your skill in quidditch you could likely play professionally. Why on earth would you wish to be something so dangerous as a dragon trainer!?"

Charlie could give her any number of answers( _but not the real one_ ), but he settles on the most truthful.

" I've always been fascinated with magical creatures, but especially dragons. I'd like to study them and one day train them. Professor Kettleburn even said he'd get me an apprenticeship on a reserve, if I was interested."

 _Great Merlin the boy is serious,_ she thinks with no small amount of horror.

" Well, do you know the required O.W.L.'s and N.E.W.T.'s?," she asks wearily.

 _Of course,_ she s, _if he is truly dedicated to this career choice than he should know them._

" N.E.W.T.'s in Care of Magical Creatures, and Defence against the Dark Arts, and O.W.L.'s in those as well as Potions and Charms."

Eventually he wears her down and she sends him off with suggestions for different books to look at, no where near close to guessing the real reason Charlie wants to be a dragon trainer. At least she convinced him to look into being a dragonologist as well.

* * *

" Why do you always wear long sleeves?," Tonks asks as they lay beneath their favorite tree.

" I feel about my arms the way you feel about your name," he replies evasively.

" I happen to like the name Tonks," she says, sticking her tongue out at him.

" Your _first_  name, _Nymphadora,"_ Charlie snipes.

He gets bonked on the he'd for his trouble. Tonks looks at him, an entirely too serious look overtaking her features.

" Do you think they're ugly or something? Cause you got some _fiiine_ muscles carrot top."

" Oh I'm well aware of that. And no, that's not the problem dingus. I just..I have a bad scar on my arm is all," Charlie says, not quite lying. 

Charlie looks around, making sure there's no one in sight, before he turns to face her, looking pensive.

" Can you keep a secret?," he asks carefully.

" Yeah, why? Is it about how you got the scar?," Tonks replies.

" Sort of," Charlie answers, and pulls up his sleeve.

Tonks looks puzzled for all of a second, before pulling him into a fierce hug. 

* * *

A common misconception about people who's soulmate's die before their born, or are born after they die, is that they feel the same way inside that an Unrequited does. However, this is not so. They feel the same ache of a Requited who's soulmate dies before them, the same heaviness of heart and burn on their mark, the same yawning chasm of grief in their chest, and a lonely terrible _want_ that never goes away. They say you can't miss something if you never had it but Charlie Weasley would be first in line to tell you whoever the hell said that is a big fucking liar.

* * *

When Charlie is seven, he makes up his mind about what he's gonna be when he grows up. He'll be a dragon tamer, and end up with lots of shiny burn scars, and no one will ever notice the one on his shoulder, him included. Maybe he'll get burned on my hat shoulder too, and it will cover his Mark. 

* * *

Charlie knows he could do what Harry and Ginny did, go out and find someone to date, even if they aren't his soulmate. But somehow, he can't manage it, can't even stomach thinking about it. And he envies them because of that, really. He envies that they could move on from Tom Riddle so easily, that they can ignore the words burned over their hearts, the pain in their chests, and love each other so fiercely. Somehow he knows he won't find someone like that, someone he can love so easily, and that makes him sad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im really tired, so I'm going to end here. I might do another Charlie chapter sometime, but for now I'm done.


	11. Start with the end (Pt. One)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " 'Cause I love you  
> More than you think I do  
> And I love you  
> Now you don't want me to  
> 'Cause I love you  
> More than you think I do  
> And I love you  
> Now you don't want me to."  
> -Alex and Sierra, lyrics to I Love You
> 
> " Yeah, he's cute isn't he? Well back off bitch cause I found him first."  
> -Anonymous
> 
> Lily is his wife, his soulmate, his One True Love. Always has been, always will be. How could she not be, everything about her is perfect in his eyes, and heck, she even gave him Bambi, his little Prongslett.
> 
> James is her everything, and so is the little boy they made together. No matter how much of a moron her husband can be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I know I'm a dick for not posting in such a long damn time. I've just had a lot of crap going on. Anyways, here's part one of the James and Lily story, and I say part one because it's a quarter past one and out of both inspiration and energy right now. I'll post again in a couple of days at least, it may not be the continuation of this but it will be in this story. So. Yeah. Enjoy yourselves some Jily.

She knows the second it happens. She knows his heart's last beat, because it rips through her own chest, and  _burnburnburns_ across her neck, the tops of her shoulders her collar bones. She can't let it distract her, this pain( _that rip tears burns through her, shattered heart aching chest James-Jamie-Jay nonono_ ), she must be strong, for her baby boy. It's a simple thing to bite her thumb and break skin, paint the runes on her baby( _sowilo, eihwaz, kenaz, ansuz, jera, wunjo, nauthiz, algiz),_ on his hands his heart his brow. They sink in, Harry's own acid green magic glows out and sucks every rune into his skin, as planned, just in time. Lily kisses her baby on his forehead, right where she'd painted sowilo seconds prior, whispers her love and hope to him, turns in time to see the door open.

" _Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"_

The monster steps closer.

_" Stand aside, you silly girl . . . stand aside now."_

He sneers, laughs coldly at the burned soul mark on the mudblood's neck.

_" Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead-"_

How could Tom know that Lily is laughing on the inside. Her blood and her life will protect her son.

_" This is my last warning-"_

He is becoming very impatient.

_" Not Harry! Please . . . have mercy . . . have mercy . . . Not Harry! Not Harry! Please- I'll do anything-"_

Wait for it.

 _" Stand aside. Give me the boy and live! Stand aside, girl_!"

There. Tom doesn't know what he's done. As soon as he casts Avada Kedavra, both their fates are sealed. Her son will live her life will bind him. Seven times Voldemort offered her life, seven times will Harry receive it. Voldemort steps closer,  over the body, sneers at the boy in his crib. Ignores the niggling in his soul saying  _Nononowaitdon'tnotyetnothim._ Hell, he doesn't have enough of a soul left to hear it anyways. He raises his wand, casts the curse, and the spirit of Lily Rose Potter  _née_ Evans that hung around for a few minutes to watch the proceedings( _read: gloat_ ) laughs and laughs and laughs.

* * *

 He doesn't mean to, isn't even thinking, Moody would have raked him over the coals for it in training. 

 James drops his wand. Granted, he does it while picking up Harry to hand him off to Lily, but still.

With equal parts fear hatred determination and dread, James blocks Voldemort's path. He actually manages to punch the snake faced bastard before its all over. His last moments before the killing curse hits him, James regrets the pain this will cause his family.

* * *

 " JAMES FLEAMONT POTTER GET YOUR ARSE IN HERE!"

Sirius snickers.

" Ooh, you're in trouble," he singsongs. James creeps into the living room to witness a scene of utter distruction. Shattered glass, dented walls, overturned furniture and broken decorations. He winces when he sees Lily, holding a delighted Harry in one arm and a wrecked toy broom in the other.

" Um...," James starts, before trailing off. He really doesn't know what to say that won't have him spending the night on the couch...

" You remember, a few weeks ago, when we agreed that we were _not_ getting Harry a broom? When we agreed that as he isn't even one yet, he is too  _young_  for a broom?," Lily asks sweetly, flashing emerald( _emerald, ha, no, avada kedavra James thinks. His next thought is oh gods oh gods oh gods I'm going to die)._

" I DIDN'T DO IT IT WAS SIRIUS!!!," James screeches, crawling backwards over the couch.

Sirius screams traitor as he too engages in similar evasive maneuvers. Remus calmly sits on the adjacent sofa, sipping a cup of tea and reading a copy of the daily prophet. _Not my problem,_ he thinks happily. Oh how wrong he is.

" _James Fleamont Potter, Sirius Orion Black, and Remus John Lupin!,_ " Lily hisses, managing to look more fierce than the Dark Lord despite having a toddler chewing on her crimson tresses.

" Why me!?," Remus yelps, choking slightly on his tea.

" Don't play dumb with me, I know good and well that if those two were doing something _utterly fucking irresponsible_ you were along for the ride! Not only that, but you're supposed to be the one who has a lick of common sense! You're supposed to end their harebrained schemes before they begin!"

As Lily and Remus argue about his ostensible responsibly for ' the rest of the half wits who call themselves Marauders', James and Sirius have an argument of their own behind the couch.

" You bastard!"

" Fleamont and Euphemia Potter were married when they had me, thank-you-very-much! And to each other, no less!"

" Fine! You traitorous rat! How could you throw me in front of the nundu like that!? We're supposed to be brothers! Brothers I tell you! This is a betrayal most foul! And I'm a Black, I should know!"

" Um, excuse me!? Have you not seen my wife!? She looks like she's about to start casting the killing curse _with her eyes!!!_  If you were in my situation you'd have done the same naffing thing and you know it!"

".....maybe."

* * *

" He said mumma!"

" He said dadda!"

" Mumma!"

" Dadda!"

" Mumma!"

" Dadda!"

" Mumma!"

" Dadda!"

_Whzzt!_

" Mooey! Mooey!"

James and Lily stare. Harry is holding his stuffed wolf, his stuffed wolf which was previously in his nursery along with his stuffed stag, Grimm, rat, and tiger. Comprehension dawns on the two twenty one year olds faces.

" His first word was Moony, wasn't it?"

" Indeed. We shall never speak of this?"

" Agreed Lily-flower, agreed."

_Whzzt!_

" Pa'foo!"

" GOD-DAMNIT!!!"    " MERLIN'S SAGGY LEFT ARSE CHEEK!!!"

" JAMES!"    " LILY!"

* * *

" _Rudolph, the red-nosed reindeer,_

_had a very shiny nose._

_And if, you ever saw him,_

_you would even say it glows._

_All of, the other reindeer,_

_used to laugh and call him names._

_They never let poor Rudolph,_

_join in any reindeer games-"_

_"_ Why in the name of Merlin are you singing my son a song about _deer_ abuse!?," James asks, looking horrified.

Lily blinks up at him bewildered, and then grimaces as Harry starts to cry again.

" Well one, it's the only thing getting him to go to sleep. Two, 'is the season and all that rubbish. Three, if you'd listened to the whole song you would have known that the mean deer get their comeuppance in the end."

" How so?"

" Sut up and let me finish the song and you'll find out."

" Fine, but if there's any more deer abuse involved I'm reporting you to the muggles pee-fah."

" ...it's PETA, Jay. Not peefah. Anyways...

_And then one foggy Christmas Eve,_

_Santa came to say,_

_Rodolph with your nose so bright,_

_Wont you guide my sleigh tonight?_

_Then how the reindeer loved him,_

_they all shouted out with glee._

_Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer, you'll go down in his-to-ryyy!"_

James huffs indignantly. Lily looks on rather bemused, before placing the now sleeping Harry in his crib.

" So, what, does he just forgive them? All of those little bastards who treated him like shite before, and now he flies Father Christmas's sleigh and they're all just like,' Oh hey, that Rudolph, I always knew he was awesome!' and ' Y'know Rudolph's my mate, we go way back me and him' and-"

" James. You're reading too much into this. It's a damned muggle Christmas carol about a sentient flying deer with a glowing red nose. Drop it, please, its two a.m., I haven't slept for the past two nights, and I just want to _go to bed."_

 _"_ But _Rudolph-"_

 _"_ Mention the deer one more time and you're sleeping on the couch love."

One huffy ' _Yes, love_ ,' and several padded foot steps later, and James and Lily are in bed. For a few blessed minutes, silence reins and all is right with Lily's world. Then, her husband's voice calls her name tears her mind from the grip of Morpheus, and one green eyes opens aand glare balefully at him. 

" _What_."

" D'you think his boogers glow too?"

Lily's exhaustion addled mind takes a few minutes to process this question, before she slurs out an exasperated ' Who, Harry?'.

" No, Rudolph-"

_Ka-thump._

_" Owie!"_

" Get _out."_

* * *

"-JAMES THIS IS YOUR FUCKING FAULT-OH SWEET BABY JESUS MARY AND JOSEPH-WE ARE NEVER DOING THIS AGAIN-MERLIN-FUCK-DAMNIT-I WILL CASTRATE YOU-"

On and on the litany went, and James was certain his hand was broken. Oh yes, the hand Lily had crushed in her vice like grip was turning a disturbing shade of puce at this point. James couldn't feel it any more, though he supposed that was probably a good thing. Yes, he'd just heard a distict crunching noise. He chanced a glance down at the end of the bed, where Poppy Pomphrey was _covered in blood and holding a red squirmy thing and hello floor._

 _"_ He did not just fain't. Tell me James did not just naffing  _faint_ ," Lily rasped disbelievingly.

Poppy snorted, before wryly replying," James did not just naffing faint."

" In other news, Hadrian is a hale, healthy little boy. Unlike his father, who appears to have some fracturing in at least two of the phalanges of his right hand, and severe facial bruising from impact with the floor. And a possible concussion from that same impact."

" Joy."

 


	12. Rebels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " All my life I've been good, but now,  
> I I I I I I'm thinkin' what, the hell!"
> 
> -Avril Lavigne 
> 
>  
> 
> Harry, Ron, Hermione. The Golden Trio. The Boy-Who-Lived-to-be-The-Man-Who-Conquered, the Horcrux Slayer, and the Brightest Witch of Her Age. Heroes of the Second War. Perfect, wonderful children who can do no-what the hell is up with their hair!? Are those PIERCINGS!?
> 
> \- 
> 
> In other words, the kids, and Harry especially, are a little sick of the pedestal they've been shoved onto. So, they chop that pedestal into fire wood and set it ablaze. With style.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize, I have been a douche. Again and again, I try to set a time to update, again and again I fail to meet that goal. This time, the only promise I'm making is that I'll update again by or on Christmas. It's the least I could do. Anywaaays, this entire story is as depressing as hell, so have some Golden Trio fluff. Ish.

Really, it's not his fault. In fact, he doesn't understand how this is funny at all. He was just shopping for potions and stocking up at Slug and Jiggers, when he was descended upon by rabid reporters. Startled by the flashing lights of their cameras, he ended up tripping over his own feet in an effort to roll into a defensive crouch, and tossed what he was carrying into the air in the process. Still mid trip-roll, Harry was helpless to defend himself against the barrage of potions and ingredients that came raining down, and ended up with partially dissolved hair that was a particularly charming shade of fuschia. And now Teddy won't quit calling him 'Mama', and the others won't quit laughing at him as Ginny tries desperately to salvage his hair.

" Didn't you grow your hair out mate? Can't you just do it again?," Ron wonders.

" Honestly Ronald, that was a very complicated act of self-transfiguration brought on by severe emotional distress, one unable to replicated as it was an act of accidental magic."

" Sooo...just 'accidentally' grow your hair back-OW!! I was only joking Mione! I know what accidental magic is!"

* * *

In the end, Harry winds up with an epic spiked Mohawk, and is actually rather pleased with it. Ron dyes his own hair in a fit of inspiration, and nearly cried when it winds up turning a very light yellow instead of blue, especially since he dyed it with '  _Sleak Eazey's PermaColour! Guaranteed to last for 6 months!'._ Draco thinks it's utterly hilarious, and calls Ron 'Malfoy Jr.' just to see him fume. After some coaxing, Hermione dyes her frizzy locks a flattering shade of indigo, and gets a bob cut while she's at it. While no one was surprised by Ron deciding to dye his hair, with Hermione it's quite a shock.

" Mya!? What the hell?," Pansy just about shrieks.

" Oh, uhm, I suppose you don't-," Hermione starts sheepishly, only to be interrupted.

" It's amazing! Oh and you got contacts?"

" Y-yeah?," she replies uncertainly, a little stunned by her girlfriend's reaction.

" Oh Merlin! You _didn't!,_ " Draco crows.

The others look at him, slightly confused. Clearly, she in fact did, do..well, whatever it is he's talking about. Actually, what in the bloody blue blazes _is_ he going on about? The new outfit she's sporting, perhaps? In fact, it turns out he isn't talking about that at all.

" Oooh, you two are gonna have _fuuuuun,_ " Draco states, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

" What the hell are you talking about dipshi- _your tongue is pierced?!_ Ha, oh Draco is right, this _will_ be fun!," Pansy snickers, watching as Hermione begins to resemble a tomato in coloring.

" Pansy!," she hisses, looking mortified, before adding," I didn't do it for that! It goes with the bloody _theme_! Ron's hair is fluorescent yellow, Harry has a pink Mohawk, my hair is now blue, it's _punk_! _Punk_ I tell you!"

" Well, maybe that's not why you did it, but..." Pansy finishes the rest of her sentence, and likely several more, by whispering into the ear of an ever-reddening Hermione, who at present sounds like she might be choking.

* * *

The first time the Prophet prints an article about the new 'Punk Trio', the muggleborn poulation of Wizarding Britain goes hog wild. Anytime any of them step into Diagon Alley, they are accosted by teens and adults who insist they should start a band, or some other such tripe. The conservative,(i.e. Pureblood), members of the population are utterly appalled by the three's hair, piercings, ripped checkered tights, denim vests, and chains. In fact, they write a letter of complaint to the Daily Prophet about it, which gets published the next day. It reads as follows:

 

> **Parental Outrage**
> 
> _The Society for the Protection of Wizarding Youth has written to us to express their fury at the, quote, ' ill-conduct of our nation's heroes.' They wished the following letter be published today;_
> 
>  
> 
> _ Dear Citizens of the Magical UK, and Beyond, _
> 
> _We find we can no longer sit back and allow this outrage to continue. It was bad enough when they dyed their hair, for our children decided that their hair needed dyed as well. Now, they wear ratty muggle clothes, piercings, and one even has tattoos. And what do our children ask, and sometimes even_ forego _asking to simply_ do _? Copy their heroes, of course. This is a call to action, a call to change your heathenistic ways. We call Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ronald Weasley, along with their friends, to cease and desist in such barbaric practices. Enough is enough. Return to being the fine, upstanding young men and women we know you can be! Eschew your piercings, glamour if not remove your tattoos, wear proper wizarding robes and for Merlin's sake, grow out and uncolor your hair! The time for teenage rebellion is passed! You are eighteen year old young ladies and gentlemen, role models for our youth; act like it!_
> 
> _Sincerely, the members of The Society for the Protection of Wizarding Youth_

* * *

" Clearly, it is pronounced Tah-Spwie."

" Ah, no Ron, quite obviously the _correct_ pronunciation is Tuh-Spwee."

Hermione snorts from her place on the squashy arm chair. The boys look up from where they sit on the floor in front of the fireplace.

" You're both wrong."

Indignation and outrage ensue.

" You both forgot the other letters; those which make it, in fact, Tuh-Suh-Fuh-Powee. Honestly you two, it should be obvious."

Both boys look at each other, before bursting out into laughter.

" What? Why are you laughing? What's so funny?"

" Nothing, nothing, we just remembered your source of such _great wisdom_ in these matters-"

" Oh mighty acronym queen, originator of such acronyms as S.P.E.W-"

" And C.O.N.D.O.M.S.-"

" And-"

" OK OK I GET IT! _Any_ ways, what fo you propose we do about-"

" Oh lord, she's at it again," Draco groans, effectively interrupting Hermione.

The three stare at him, even as he sneers down at the Daily Prophet on the floor between them all. 

" Um, what?"

" My _mother._ I thought she was kidding about the whole society-thingy. Apparently not. Clearly, she is as serious about it as she is about her hatred of purple."

" She doesn't hate purple darling, she hates that your _hair_ is purple. In fact, purple is one of her favorite colors," Astoria chimes in, voice echoing from the kitchen.

" Well, my hair is a part of me and she loves me, and apparently she loves purple, so logically she shouldn't hate my hair _being_ purple."

* * *

" I now call this meeting of the Rebellion Against Tuh-Suh-Fuh-Powee to order. So, as of the conclusion of our last meeting, we still have no ideas. Anybody got one now?"

" I got nothin' mate."

" We could send them bubotuber pus in the mail? The one in my green house has matured enough to produce it."

" We probably _shouldn't_ cause anyone physical harm..."

" *cough* Tongue-Ton-Toffee *cough*."

" I think Hermione has an idea."

" Luna, how did you-"

" The nargles told me.....I'm kidding, you have the same look on your face that you always get when you have an idea."

" Ah, ok, well. Um, anyways, I was thinking, they don't like it when anyone doesn't conform to their standards of proper wizarding behaviour, right? Well, a perfect way to do that would be cross dressing. We'd be completely turning their standards on their heads, and-"

" I vote yes!"

" You just want to see your girlfriend in a tux!"

" Not anymore than I'd like to see said tux on the bedroom floor."

" _PANSY NO."_

 _"_ Pansy _yes."_

" Yes, uh,  _anyways._  All in favor?"

" Aye."

" Aye."

" Aye, aye, Captain Potter!"

" Aye!"

" Aye, aye aye aye aye, _aaaaaaye!_ And did I forget to mention-"

" Pans, we get it. And Aye, Harry."

" Aye. Who knows, maybe you'll look cute in a dress Hare-bear. A green one would really bring out your eyes."

" Ha ha Ginny. Anyone else?"

" Aye, but I do hope you all realize how difficult it will be to find one that matches Ron's hair."

" Daph, as long as it doesn't look like Auntie Muriel's dress, I'm fine. Aye."

" Noooooo, never, I shall not wear a dress and I shall not change my beautiful hair."

" Too bad, you've been outvoted Draco."

" NEVER AND YOU CAN'T MAKE ME!"

" Ooookay then. Doesn't matter, we'll force you at wand point. Meeting, adjourned!"

 


	13. And May All Your Christmases Be White

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " I never really did Christmas before. I mean, Christmas Day, what's that?"  
> -Unknown 
> 
> Harry's first Christmas was his last for a very long time. Or rather, the last he was allowed to celebrate. After all, freaks don't deserve presents, or candy, or much at all, really. But then Harry arrives at Hogwarts, and every year thereafter, he gets to celebrate Christmas.
> 
> _____
> 
>  
> 
> Aka, Harry Potter Christmas, years 1-18.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What, did ya'll really think I was gonna let you escsape today unscathed? Ha, no.

" Lily! Lils! Lil! Lily-flower! Lilylilylilylilylily! Lilyyyyyyy!"

" What!?"

" The people outside are singing the _song_!," James hisses, looking horrified.

" What song? Actually, nobody is dying, so I don't-"

" THE song! _Rudolph_!"

Lily rolls her eyes, before grumbling," Oh for the love of God. James, it is a _Christmas carol,_ the ones singing it are _carolers,_ not evil beings of malicious intent hellbent on causing you misery! Honestly James!"

James mutters something that sounds an awful lot like ' _Peefah_ ', before sitting on the couch to play with Harry. Harry is pleased by this, giggling and floating over his favorite stuffie to play with. And to smack his father on the head with.

" Honey, I'm _hooooooome!_ ," a voice rings from the floo, just as Sirius comes somersaulting out of it, bowing as Harry giggles and James claps.

" Hello Sirius. Hey, I thought you were bringing Remus?," Lily replies, digging around in the ornament box.

She misses the flash of pain on his face as he faux-cheerfully replies," He's, ah, he's flooing over from his flat. Gonna bring his girlfriend, Dorcas."

" Meadows? Wasn't she-"

" The one who's hair we turned green in seventh year? Yup!," James interrupts gleefully.

Lily scoffs, muttering that that they're terrible people, before hanging the garlands she's just found with a flick of her wand. Next goes the wreath on the door, and the tinsel, fairy lights, and colored bulbs on the tree. At last the star goes on, and the decorations are finished.

" Hey, you forgot something! There isn't any mistletoe," James pouts.

" Oops, looks like we lost it there's none in the box," Lily replies airily, vanishing the mistletoe as she speaks.

When Sirius is turned, she shoots a pointed look at his back. Thankfully James catches on, and looks abashed. ' _Sorry'_ he mouths soundlessly. Lily just roles her eyes. While Sirius is still turned, James mouths ' _Meadows? Really? Meadows?.'_ Lily has to hold back a snort at the utterly horrified look on her husband's face. Sirius turns around just in time to see James mouthing the word and looking appalled. His snort, and the fullbellied laughter that follows, is not held back at all.

" She isn't _that_ bad!,'' he laughs.

" You say that, but she never tried to feel _you_ up!," James snaps.

" She _what!? When!?_ ," Lily hisses.

" Seventh year Christmas party, mistletoe!," James yelps, promptly and fearfully.

" Oh, she and I will have _words,_ " Lily growls, looking murderous.

" Oi, calm down, she was probably drunk on the Christmas punch. Besides, Moony really likes her, and we shouldn't m-mess it up," Sirius interjects.

As it turns out, Lily does not confront Dorcas. She just makes sure the woman stays far away from her husband. Which isn't all that difficult, actually, what with her apparent efforts to merge her mouth with Moony's. Dorcas and Remus aren't the only guests, of course. Several other Order members attend, such as Frank and Alice and their son Neville, Sirius's on-again-off-again girlfriend (and Lily's bestfriend other than Alice) Marlene McKinnon, Arthur and Molly and their brood, the Prewwett brothers, and many others. The baby's find themselves passed around and cooed at, and the older children play hide and go seek or steal Christmas cookies. Inside their little home in Godric's Hollow, the atmosphere is warm, a stark contrast to the flurry outside.

* * *

He is small, and it is cold and dark in his cupboard. He still wonders if Mummy will wake up, if Daddy will come get him and make pretty lights. That never happens though. Instead, he lies in his cold dark cupboard, and dreams of stags, wolves, dogs, rats, and tigers. Outside, though the child with the scar does not know it, the snow falls just as thickly as it did on his first Christmas.

* * *

He shouldn't have said anything, he knows that now, but he sees Aunt 'Tunia reading to Du'ley a Christmas book that says Father Christmas comes when its dark and snowy, and, well, its dark and snowy outside so he asks if Father Christmas is going to come bring him presents now. He is cuffed about the head and sent to his cupboards. Harry tries to quiet his sniffles, knowing he will just get into trouble for whining. He wishes he'd never asked about Father Christmas. It's sometime later when his cupboard door is opened, and a stale piece of toast and a sock are tossed in. He hears his uncle sneer 'Merry Christmas', and then all is dark and silent once more as his door is slammed shut.

" Mewwy Ch'ismas," the two and a half year old whispers.

* * *

Harry has decided he hates snow. Snow is cold and wet and _everywhere_ and he's stuck outside in the backyard. Big fat fluffly flakes are swirling around him, coating his thick black curls and causing the tiny three year old to resemble a baby polar bear. Harry wishes he was allowed inside, but he's supposed to stay out in case he ruins Christmas even more. The temperature continues to drop, so he crawls behind the shed, and squeezes through the rusty hole in the bottom right corner of the back wall. He finds it to be both warmer and dryer inside, and decides he will stay in the shed until he is allowed back in. In the meantime, Harry has made his own little Christmas in the shed, with a fallen evergreen bough that he dragged in and decorated with a ripped kite tail. He pretends sticks and pinecones are presents, and makes a merry time of it until he's called in for bed.

* * *

Four has not been a good year for Harry. Four means he is old enough to learn to cook, and Harry hates cooking. Vernon and Dudley watch the telly while Petunia finishes preparing the roast goose. Harry, however, gets to peel and wash the potatoes. He has cut his fingers five times in as many minutes. and eventually Aunt Petunia makes him fry the pigs in a blanket on the stovetop. This proves to be an even worse idea, as he ends up burning his fingertips multiple times. Eventually, Petunia gives him an overcooked roll and boots him out the back door into the snow, telling him he'd better be ready to cook breakfast in the morning. Harry comforts himself with the knowledge that breakfast is usually easy to cook, and begins looking for a fallen branch.

After he locates one, he takes it into the shed and has a second Christmas of his own. He eats his meager Christmas dinner in front of his tiny Christmas tree, an decides that this is his best Christmas.

* * *

As it turns out, five manages to be a worse year than four( _Harry hopes this won't be a pattern)_. Harry started school this year, and everything seemed like it might be ok, until Dudley scared everyone away from 'freaky Harry Potter and his baggy old clothes and taped up glasses and weirdo scar.' Nobody wants to be friends with him for fear of Dudley, and the teachers have all been assured he's a crazy delinquent. How they believe this of a tiny bony five year old is uncertain( _and maybe they just don't want to look closer, at his hand-me-downs from his immaculately dressed cousin, his constant lack of lunch money and lunch pail, his bruises and scars and too small body and too scared eyes. Because that just isn't their business.),_ but nonetheless they do. So he has no respite at home and no respite at school. Not that he ever had one, but still, an escape would be nice.

He hates their latest assignment, too. Mrs. Sullmeyer told them to write about what hey did during the Christmas holls. What's he supposed to write!? 'My name is Harry Potter and I stayed in my cupboard just about the whole time because I burned the bacon?' Ha, no, not gonna work. Or maybe, maybe he could write about his Shed Christmas, because it's snowing like usual and if he gets locked _out_ instead of _in_ he's going to have another one. As is, he was awoken by Dudley jumping on the stairs yelling 'Merry Christmas, Freak!', and if his day continues like it started that's what's going to happen every hour or so.

It's official, even before the hanger and slice of toast are tossed into his cupboard; Harry hates Christmas, and Christmas hates him.

* * *

Apparently there won't be a pattern, because Harry gets to spend Christmas with Mrs. Figg this year. Granted, she doesn't celebrate Christmas, but she does celebrate something called 'Hah-nekah'( _he thinks)_ , and lets him light the candles in this cool little lamp on her table. She gives him a little gift for eight days, small things like spinning tops and bubblegum packs, and in return he whittles her a whistle and a couple of different animals. Mrs. Figg lets him play outside in the heavy snow with her numerous cats, and then come warm up by the fire with cocoa. Harry has never had the drink before, and finds himself overwhelmed by the sweetness.

So while the Dursleys are spending Christmas sipping martinis on a cruise, Harry is eating latkes and learning about freedom fighters and oil that didn't burn away. He decides that while he hates Christmas, he loves Hanukkah.

* * *

Seven...seven is a Shed Christmas, to say the least. Long story short, he is in big trouble. Long story long, well...

He's awoken by loud rapping on his cupboard door, and stumbles out only to be told to start the goose. Thankfully, that doesn't go wrong, however when he starts up the stovetop to cook up some rashers, everything goes to _hell_. Dudley shoves past him, and he accidentally grabs the burner trying to keep from falling. Then, it turns out the dishwasher malfunctioned, and the dishes are actually dirtier than they were before. So, Harry has to wash them all with a burnt hand. Not only that, but when it, eventually, comes time to take the goose out of the oven, it turns out that all the oven mitts are in the wash, so he has to wrap his hands in dish cloths and take out the goose that way. This makes his hand hurt even more, and by the time he's tossed out into the snow he is beyond ecstatic, plunging his blistered hand into the icy goodness that coats the ground.

Harry hurriedly hoofs it to the shed, bringing with him a stick that splits off into multiple twigs at the end instead of a branch. Inside his safe haven, he conducts his own Hannukah, smashing flat the bread he was given in order for it to resemble a latke.

* * *

Eight is unremarkable as far as Christmases go. Mainly, because year eight is highly reminiscent of year five, in which he spent the majority of Christmas in his cupboard. He is gifted with a pair of Dudley's worn out underpants, and a mealy apple. Granted, he understands _why_ he's in trouble( _that doesn't make him ache any less, nor cause the fierce stinging of his back and backside to abate_ ). He burned the goose, after all.

* * *

Nine is another Hanukkah with Mrs. Figg, and he enjoys it greatly. They exchange small gifts( _what he doesn't know is she can barely afford what she has, and that she's been giving him the toys her son played with as a child. But he doesn't need to know that, she decides, it would only make him feel guilty._ ), she lets him light the candles on the menorah, and he goes to bed with a full belly for the first time in a long time. She lets him pretend to be Judah Maccabee reconquering Jerusalem(the backyard) with his army(her cats). When the land is well and truly conquered, he heads inside from the snow to eat takeout with his most favorite person in the world.

* * *

Ten is the worst Christmas ever. He doesn't get his outside chores finished before lunch, so he has to skip the meal. He's shoveling snow off of the back path while clad in only a too big tee shirt, torn jeans, and fraying shoes, when Dudley sprays him with a water gun. So, now he's even colder than before, and soaked to the bone. Also, since he's wet, he isn't allowed in until he dries off. Just. _Great._

* * *

So far, nine was the best Hanukkah ever, but eleven? Eleven is the best Christmas ever! He got _actual presents!_ He wishes he could send something to Mrs. Figg, but she's a muggle, and he doesn't exactly have access to muggle post. Harry decides to whittle her something now and save it to give to her this summer. But first, he needs to open his presents! And he's got _six_  of them! This is brilliant!

* * *

Hogwarts or not, twelve is terrible. Twelve is hatred and spite, being hissed at and hexed in the halls. Twelve is waking up on Christmas to find all of his presents utterly _ruined._ The fudge is a black tarry morrass, a mix of melted metal and melted chocolate. Books from Hermione and Ron are ashes on the floor, mixed with charred wood that must have been a carving from Hagrid. And his Weasley sweater has been reduced to a few burnt threads. He doesn't realize he's crying until Ron hurriedly brushes away the tears wetting his cheeks. Then, he gets someone he knows will help.

Percy has never resembled his mother more. Three boys and a girl, two seventh years, a sixth year, and a fifth year, cower before his towering rage, as he screams at a volume fit to beat his mother's loudest howler. The entirety of the Gryffindor quidditch team, plus Ron, Hermione, and, surprisingly, _Neville,_ are leveling terrifying glares at the culprits, who look like they may be deciding between shitting themselves or pissing their pants.

Five letters home later, and Molly Weasley is furiously knitting a sweater and simultaneously cooking a tin of fudge. Not six hours later, and a rather belabored owl struggles to flap over to where Harry sits at the lunch table, collapsing at his plate on top of fours packages. Harry opens them to find a new sweater, a tin of peanut butter fudge, a red rubber ducky, and a battered wizarding chess set. Harry's head whips around in the direction of the other Weasleys, who blush. He dives off of his chair and attempts to wrap his skinny arms around them all, a litany of _thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou_ leaving his lips at a rapid fire pace.

* * *

Thirteen brings his usual presents, and  a multitude of both questions and joy with his brand new Firebolt. His _FIREBOLT_! He doesn't know who is stealing louder, him, Ron, or Oliver. Percy and Hermione tap their feet in near unison in the background, radiating disapproval at such antics. Of course, the Firebolt is gone, snatched from their collective grasp along with any chance at the Cup not ten minutes later, when McGonagall confiscates it to check it for curses and hexes. Oliver cries. Percy sighs.

* * *

Christmas is weird at fourteen. For one thing..everyone _knows_ now. For another, the stupid Yule Ball. That none of them have dates to. Thus, an emergency meeting is called in the RoR.

" I mean, you two could just take each-"

" NO!"

" She's like my _sister,_ mate! It'd be like taking Ginny!"

" Well it'd be weird if I went with either of you for the same reason! I just wish everyone wasn't making such a big deal of taking your Soulmate! I mean, what, am I supposed to take the shade of Moldyshorts to the ball on my arm? Call an armistice long enough for the first dance?"

" Too true. And if I asked Pansy she'd probably hex 'Mudblood' into my skin perman-"

" She kind of already did tha-"

" Fuck you, you ginger bastard."

" First, I thought we already established that would be ewwy, and second, you're thinking of Bill."

"..."

" ANYWAYS!!"

* * *

Fifth year is a sucky Christmas, under the reign of Umbitch. She basically bans the holiday as seditious, on the grounds that it can cause anarchy. Gifts are exchanged in secret, the feast is eaten in relative silence, and everyone hates Umbitch more than they did before.

* * *

Sixteen isn't that good of a Christmas, either. It's spent in hiding, spent gathering an army to match the Dark Lord, spent gathering allies and training. Their Christmas feast is spam and bottled water, and they're greatful for every bite and every sip. Presents are new boots and coats with runes woven in for protection. Harry misses Hanukkah.

* * *

Seventeen is spent running still yet, and pausing for a moment in Godric's Hollow. For the first time he sees their graves, the place they lived, the place they died. Harry sees the nursery that was blown to bits when he was marked that faithful night. Then a fucking snake bursts out of an old hag like they're in _Alien,_ because _why the fuck not apparently._ Seriously, what the hell?! WHYYYYY?!?! 

" At least it wasn't a spider. Uuugh, hate spiders."

" AND A NAFFING SNAKE WAS _SOOO_ MUCH BETTER _HOW!?_ "

" No legs. I hate all those legs. And the ha-"

" Oh _honestly_ Ronald!"

* * *

" It isn't your turn, it's mine! Youngest first!"

" Um, hello, _Teddy_  anyone? He's younger than you Tori!"

" Fine, whatever, have him open his then"

" Mum Teddy bit meeee!"

" Ronald he's _teething,_ what do you expect? Give him here."

" But Molly he's gotta open presents so _I_ can open presents!"

" Can it Tori I'm younger than you!"

" You wanna go Gingerette?"

" Bring it blondy!"

" Hush it children the grown ups are trying to relax."

" Pans, you're a year older than they are, if they're children so are you."

" Yeah, _Pans,_ does that make you a-OWEEE! She _hit_ me!"

" Suck it up Drac-y Poo."

" Sorry it's so chaotic, I know it's probably not what you expected Grandma."

" Oh Harry, it's no bother. And thank you for letting me put the star on the tree, dear."

" Well, you always let me light the candles." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. I actually (semi) kept to an update schedule! *Gasp* It's a Christmas Miracle!


	14. Through a Mirror Darkly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " I'm sick of losing soulmates,  
> so where do we begin?  
> I can finally see you're as fucked up as me  
> so how do we win?"
> 
> -Dodie Clark
> 
>  
> 
> All of them are hurt, somehow some way. Just as many bad times as good, just as many gone wrong as gone right. Love and the lack thereof leaves just as many scars as the war did, and sometimes the scars are words on your skin, ashy or mocking or full of hatred or simply burned away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, I'm sorry, what was that? You thought I was nice now? Hahahahahahaha no. Oh, by the way, as for trigger warnings, which this should have a few of, there are, not precisely in the order: suicidal ideation, child abuse-verbal, emotional, and physical, PTSD, mentioned and very briefly seen(sort of) in a flashback torture, and depression. This one's heavy, folks. If you want happy, may I redirect you to the prior three chapters?

_It hurts it hurts it hurts it won't stop oh god why won't she stop_

_Her arm is wet why is it wet when it's on fire_

_Stopstopstopstopst **opstopstopstopsto pstopstopstopSTOP**_

"-mione...ou're.....afe...Hermio...ease...ok?...do I do?...arry?..."

" op touching....fraid...ooling char.....ee? She's starting....out..it."

" Mione? Can you.......e?"

She still can't breathe and it's hard to talk but her vision is clearing and now she can see instead of wild black curls and manic eyes the person in front of her has an auburn updo and a blue, terrified gaze. And Harry, behind Pansy, frantic, pale to the point his face is the color of coffee with too much creamer. And nothing burns and she isn't chained and she's on a bed, no _her_ bed, and she can rub the soft cotton between her fingers and she's not bleeding or burning or hurt at least that's what she tells herself but some part of her mind is still screaming at her to run and hide( _baddangernotsafehurhurthurtpainrun)_  and the rest of it is saying get a grip you're fine.

" Mya? Mya, remember where you are? Feet, hands, eyes, ears," Harry soothes, voice cracking.

" What about them? That they're attached?," Pansy asks, on the edge of hysteria.

" No," Hermione croaks," it means..touch the..ground with your feet and reme-*cough*-mber where you are..move your hands..and remember that you're able..look around and...recognize where you are.. and listen to someone talk..-*cough, cough, cough*.."

" Oh, that..that sounds like a good idea," Pansy replies, still shaking slightly.

" It is..it helps," Hermione rasps.

" I'm glad. Do you need something? Water, or food, or-"

" A sleepover?," she suggests grinning.

Harry gasps delightedly, muttering something about a fort, before summoning just about every pillow on the premises with a flick of his wand.

" Next time specify the number of pillows, maybe?," comes Pansy's irate grumble from within the pillow mountain.

Hermione and Harry just laugh, even as the voices of the other residents of the house filter into the room, shouting about their lack of pillows.

...

Not an hour later and everyone in the house is passed out in a colossal pillow fort, one held together with magic and sheer determination. Hermione doesn't remember anything else that night.

* * *

" Enough with that inane _sniveling!_ You are a _Malfoy,_ and _Malfoy's_ don't _cry_ like _infants_ over a _scratch!_ Stupid boy! I should-"

" Father that is enough! Leave my son _alone_ you cantankerous old bastard!," Lucius hissed, silver eyes nearly sparking with fury.

" He should be man enough to-"

" He is _six_ , he isn't a _man_ at all! Get _out!"_

With one last snarl in the direction of the crying child cowering before him, Abraxes Malfoy stomps out of the sitting room. Just as quickly, Lucius walks over and scoops his son up. Wincing slightly as the boy clutches at his left arm, he rocks his son back and forth, assuring him all the while that should anyone ever hurt him, all Draco must do is tell his father.

...

Years later, he refuses the Mark, and suddenly that ceases to apply.

* * *

Does it even matter? Nobody would care, nobody would miss him, not his mother not his father not his _soulmate._  All he has to do, is take one.

More.

Step.

With the potions he took, and the height he's at, not only would it be nigh instant..he wouldn't feel a thi-

" Reggie _no!"_

 _Thump_.

Regulus opens his eyes to see his brother's terrified ones staring down at him. _Oh. Sirius._ Even if no one else will care, him dying would kill Sirius.

" I-I-I'm s-s-sorry S-s-siri-u-u-us," he sobs, even as his brother sits up and pulls him into his lap, rocking them both slowly.

" Shh, shh, it's gonna be ok, I promise Reg, I'm gonna make it better, you'll see," Sirius murmurs into his hair.

Oh yes, Sirius will make it better. He will protect Reg, and he knows just how. And he knows Reg will hurt for a while, yes, but he'll be so much better off in the end. _Snivelous_ will never hurt Reggie again, not after tomorrow night. He swears it by the moon that's waxing in the sky.

...

" I know you idiots are getting up to something down there! And I think I know what it is! Or rather, _whom_ it is!"

Severus is momentarily stunned by Sirius's resemblance to his older cousin when the other boy turns to face him, sneering and with an odd glint in his eye.

" You want to know so badly, _Snivelous?_ Try poking the knot on the Willow, but make sure you use a long stick. Wouldn't want you getting knocked on your ugly arse, would we?"

Severus sneers back at the boy, before stalking off, already making plans to sneak out for tonight's full moon. He doesn't witness the glint in the Black Heir's eyes twist into something wholly frightening, almost... _mad._ But is it so surprising? The Black's are known for their madness, after all.

* * *

Its stupid, really. _He's_ stupid. It's his own fault for not having his wand on him, and for rummaging about in the closet, and getting himself trapped. And it hurts a bit where the rubbish in the closet fell on him and it's getting hard to breathe but that's just-that's just dust and the walls aren't closing in they aren't they aren't they _aren't!_ He's just being stupid he's always stupid fre _ak burden it's his fault it's always his fault why can't he just be good -_ **Be good like Dudley don't be so ungrateful why are you so useless why can't you do anything right!? Get in the cupboard NOW!!** \- _oh god oh fuck he can't get out he'll never get out they'll forget he's in here he'll starve in here all alone with the spiders and the dust-_

" -is he?"

The voices filter up from beneath him ( _beneath him that's not right the voices come through the grate the grate they closed it it's so dark),_ and he begins to pound at the floor and scratch at it and he'd scream but his throat is closed up with panic and he still can't _breathe._

 _"_ The hell is that?" 

" Coming from up there-"

" I'm up here and I don't see where- _oh._ Oh _fuck-"_

 _"_ Whaddaya _mean_ oh fuck? Where is he?"

Ron doesn't answer, instead ripping open the door and throwing boxes out of the way and finally he sees Harry, Harry who is bruised and bleeding a bit and sobbing _wretchedly_ where he's leapt into Ron's arms, and Ron doesn't think Harry knows where he is, or who Ron is, because he keeps mumbling _sorry sorry sorry i'll do better i'll be good sorry sorry sorry.._

_..._

EventuallyHarryis calmed down and falls asleep. While he rests, Hermione and Ron are dragged to the basement by a furious looking Daphne and Pansy. Once down the stairs, they are flopped unceremoniously into two armchairs. Looking around, they realize everybody but Harry is down here with them. They look at each other, puzzled, before Luna's dreamy voice cuts through their confusion.

" We're so sorry to drag you two down here unannounced, but you see, we have a very important question for you."

" Yeah. Where da tha Dursleys live? I need some fertilizer ya see, and seeing as they're human sacks a shite-"

" You can't have all of them, I'm in need of potions ingredients-"

" I always need new testers for experimental healing spells-"

As the list of various uses for the Dursleys winds on, Hermione and Ron look at each other and have a silent conversation, before simultaneously shrugging.

" Number Four Privet Drive, or at least they used to. I think they moved."

" Well as it so happens, I know a tracking charm. A very good, possibly illegal one."

" Possibly, Tori?"

" It's not _reeeeaally_  illegal if nobody _catches_ you, is it?"

* * *

" Do you want to maybe-"

" Go away Weasley. I don't talk to blood traitors."

She pretends to miss the flash of pain in his baby blue eyes, the way his steps falter. She ignores him as he walks away with hunched shoulders. 

" _Merlin,_ what is that boy's problem? Can't he see you aren't interested?," Malfoy sneers.

 _Me,_ Daphne thinks, _I'm his problem._

What she says is," I haven't the slightest."

...

Later she'll pretend she doesn't see him crying with Potter and Granger in their spot by the lake. Later she'll pretend not to feel the guilt that's eating away at her. 

She's getting very good at games of pretend.

* * *

" She _hates_ me! She hates me and she's never gonna stop!," James cries, slumping to the floor.

" Prongs, I'm sure she won't hate you forever," Sirius replies, trying and failing to keep the tremor out of his words.

" See, even _you_ know it's not true! Of course she'll hate me, I'm unlovable!"

" No you aren't! Anyone would love you, anyone would be happy to have you as their soulmate!"

" Not the only one who _matters_! _She_ doesn't love me! _She_ isn't happy to be my soulmate!," James snaps, watching as Sirius recoils.

" Fuck Evans! If she doesn't love you find someone who will!" Sirius yells( _like **me** he thinks)._

 _"_ It's not that simple, I can't love someone else! She's my soulmate!"

 _And you're mine!_ He wants to scream.

...

He holds his tongue, he always holds his tongue.

* * *

Screams permeate the air, along with the metallic tang of blood. No matter, his horcrux is almost complete. Perhaps this one shall be the last, if it works. 

Ah, yes, the ritual is finished. And _oh, yes,_ it indeed works. Nothing. He feels _nothing_ , and it's glorious. No pain, no emptiness, just _nothing._ As it should be. He is done waiting for a soulmate that may never come, he doesn't need them. No, he is fine on his own. That's how it has always been, after all.

* * *

" What have I  _done!?"_

 _"_ Shewas only ever holding you ba-"

Gellert is cut off with an audible click of his jaw, the jaw Aberforth just slammed into with his powerhouse of a fist. Furiously, the blonde whips his wand towards the younger man only to be disarmed by a seething Albus. Albums whose red hair is whipping in an unseen wind, whose baby blue eyes have turned a darkly glowing cobalt in his rage and his grief.

" _Leave._ And take _this,"_ and here Albus snaps the wand in his ands and throws it at Gellert," with you."

Despite his own fury, Gellert is cowed enough to go, apperating before he gets cursed by an increasing out of control Albus. Albus, for his part, drops to his knees in front of his sister's dead body and _screams,_ the sand around him melting into glass and then shattering under the force of his magic. In the arcane furor that has erupted, the only things that remain untouched are Ariana, and Albus.

...

" This photograph, is of my sister, Ariana. She was killed years ago."

" I..I'm sorry, sir. How..?"

" Gellert. It seems not only that both of our soulmates have penchants for megalomania, but also for killing those we hold dear."

* * *

 

" _What_ do you _think_ you are _doing!?"_

 _"_ Wh-what do you mean, I don't-"

_Smack_

_"_ Do you think your father and I are fools? That your sister is a bloodtraitor? Like _you_  apparently are? She _told_ us what you asked in your last letter!"

Oh. _That._

 _"_ I am ashamed of you! What were you _thinking_?"

" That if-if my soulmate at least was at Hogwarts, maybe she-"

" Is still a mudblood! With a name like _Granger_ she'd have to be! Enough, we are finished with this conversation. Go to your room, I don't want to see you until this weekend. Flopsy will bring you food. Go."

...

" Huh. Your eighth birthday sounds a lot like mine. Without the stove. And the cupboard. But yeah."

" Oh yeah, that's a glowing review."

" Well I didn't say having a birthday like mine was a _good thing."_

" Touché."

 


	15. What is Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What we ask is to be human individuals, however peculiar and unexpected. It is no good saying: "You are a little girl and therefore you ought to like dolls"; if the answer is, "But I don't," there is no more to be said.”  
> ― Dorothy L. Sayers, Are Women Human? Astute and Witty Essays on the Role of Women in Society
> 
> Bella never felt like a woman, Andy never felt like anything, and Cissa never felt much of anything at all. But they are expected to, if not love, then be dutiful to whatever men their mother and father dredge up for them to marry. Even if they don't want to.
> 
> They break and cage Bella and Cissa, and Andy runs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya'll just. Y'all do not even understand how motherfucking done I am with this chapter. So, so done. I started writing this shit at, like, one o clock in the afternoon. It's now 12:02 as I type this. By the time I post it'll be 12:04, I'd say. Just, just ugh. So much ugh.

" Because I'm _not_."

" How do you know though? What if you're wrong?"

" I _am_ wrong, that's the _point_. Or at least, I feel wrong."

" Wrong how?"

" Wrong like I'm wearing clothes that don't fit? I don't..I don't know how to describe it, really. Uhm, maybe think of it like having an extra limb? Or missing one? I just..something is wrong and I hate it and it makes me feel sick. I look in the mirror by accident or out of the corner of my eye and I just get startled because I sort think who's that, that can't be me. And I know it's not normal and I'm not supposed to feel that way and I hate it. I'm never gonna feel like I'm supposed to Siri! Like mum and dad want me to!"

" Fuck them, Orion and Walburga, Cygnus and Druella. They aren't our parents, they're just our spiteful second cousins who against all common decency procreated, and, unfortunately for us, we were the result."

* * *

 She left them, and she will always regret it. They're her sisters, and Andy left them with the cruel words and cruel curses of her mother and father. Ha, mother and father. She thinks back to a conversation she had with Sirius a few months prior. About how their parents aren't parents at all, about how she should run and not look back. Well, she did. She ran.

Tonight she turned sixteen, and her..parents..announced her betrothal to Cyrus Greengrass. Not even the man's son, Kaltropis, who's at least close to her age, albeit a few years younger, but to a sixty year old man. Fuck, everything in her life is just fucked right now. Apparently, the man planned to disown his son in favor of any offspring they'd managed to create, and fuck all if she was going to let him touch her. She felt wrong enough in her own skin without a nasty old man trying to " make an heir with her". Nope, huh uh, no thank you. Besides, she has Ted. Ted, who's house she is currently ringing the doorbell of in the middle of the night with no warning. Who needs _propriety_ anyways.

* * *

 So, Cissy isn't freaking out. Not at all. Nope. One hundred percent calm, that's Narcissa Black for you. Black, soon to be...Malfoy. Oh gods she's gonna puke. Apparently her parents decided announcing her betrothal on her seventeenth birthday would be better than announcing it on her sixteenth, considering what happened the last two times they tried that(one daughter having to be imperiused until her marriage and one running away the same night).

But Narcissa...she doesn't have that same fierce fire and determination that Bella and Andy have. She can't make herself leave, or fight. Being alone with mother and father,( _or_ _cousin and cousin as Sirius refers to both her parents_ _and_ _his_ ) has all but sapped her will to fight. How can she fight, when her hands shake too badly to hold her wand most days. Sirius calls it the rolling shakes; shakes that come and go because of too much cruciatus damage to the nerves. He has them too, unsurprisingly. And he left her too, unsurprisingly. She is the only Black child left; Bella was taken, Sirius and Andy ran, and Reggie died for his defiance.

None of her family will attend her wedding, not her real family anyways. Oh, the Blacks will be there, and her inlaws, and even Bella, but her sister is just as dead as Regulus now, and Andy and Siri can't risk going. She wishes she didn't have to go either. She wishes there wasn't a wedding. But there will be, in nine months, exactly as long as is necessary for a proper, non-scandalous courtship. And it will be days after her graduation. Not that she needs to graduate, or even be educated, in her parents opinion. She's only attended Hogwarts at all for propriety's sake. And it terrifies her to think she'll lose Hogwarts, her last bastion of safety in a cruel world.

* * *

She had always enjoyed playing with Sirius and Reggie much more than playing with Cissy and her dolls. Andy didn't much care for playing, and wasn't hesitant to tell her when she asked. No, Andy would much rather read and learn than play, not that Cygnus ~~~~and Druella were happy with that. Indeed, learning had no place when she would one day be married off to some Heir or another. Bella had been told the same, with only one word( _crucio can really get the message across_ ), when she had been caught wearing some of Sirius's clothes and playing Auror with him. Aurors are men, she was told later, and she is a girl. She's better start acting like one.

One day she( _no he damnit, he)_ will end up in the sacred grove, the bonding bracelet on her arm a shackle instead of a promise of love. She will vow to join him, the Lestrange heir, to be his in all things and submit to his will. The words will be ash on her tongue and her fate will be sealed at sixteen.

But right now, he's trying to come up with a new name for himself, ensconced in the astronomy section of the Hogwarts library with Sirius, looking at star charts and lists of constellations.

" Corvus?"

" No.."

" Orpheus?"

" He died, didn't he?"

" Ursa?"

" Pretty sure that's a girls name.."

" Adhara? Bootës? Polaris-"

" That one! Also, really, Bootës? That sounds like boots. Why would I want to be called boots?"

" He drives a chariot, it's wicked!"

" You're thinking of Auriga, twit."

" Whatever. Do you have a middle name in mind?"

" Yep. And it isn't stupid, like Bootës."

" Fine, oh great and wise Polaris, what is your middle name?"

" Aquila."

" Huh. Actually, that's pretty cool. Polaris Aquila Black. Nowhere near as cool as Sirius, but still."

" You dolt."

* * *

 " Hey Andy, whatcha doin?," Ted asks curiously.

She jumps, tripping over her own feet in the process and sprawling at his before he can react. The grey trousers she was trying on are tangled about her ankles, and the buttons of the shirt she was wearing are torn.

" Hello, Ted."

" Oh, I'm sorry, shite, lemme help you up? Uh, do ya mind if I ask...well.."

" Why I'm trying on your clothes?"

" Yeah, that, that would be my question."

She struggles to come up with something that could be construed as an appropriate response as he helps her onto her feet. She takes the time to get fully dressed while she tries to think of an answer.

" Look, nothing I say isn't going to be weird, so I figure I might as well spill. I don't feel like a girl so I wanted to see if I felt like a boy."

" Ok. Do you?"

Andy finds herself surprised, and somehow defensive, just because of Ted's non judgemental answer. How the hell, she thinks, is he ok with this( _when_ _the_ _majority_ _of_ _her_ _family_ _aren't_ )? And yet Ted just stands there, as if all she had to say was that she's decided to tell him her favorite color is grey, or something equally mundane.

" What do you mean, ok? You don't-you haven't got any problem with your girlfriend telling you she doesn't feel like a girl?!"

" Nope. Why should I? You can't control how you feel. It wouldn't be nice to be mad at you for something you can't-mmph!"

Andy cuts him off with a fierce kiss, an unexplainable feeling welling up inside.

" Thanks, Ted. And, ah, to answer your question, no, not really. I mean, sometimes? Sometimes I feel like either, but sometimes I don't, but today I kind of felt like a boy so I thought maybe if I looked like a boy, then, erm, I wouldn't be so confused?"

Ted nods as though this makes perfect sense to him. That's because it does, of course.

" Well, like I said before, that's ok. I'd feel the same about you either way. Or neither way, I guess? I mean, since you don't really know?"

" Gods, you don't know how happy I am to hear you say that Ted."

* * *

 Ok, ok, it isn't so bad. Really, it isn't. And even if it is, it'll be worth it, as soon as they have a child. Really. And it's not like Narcissa feels repulsed by it per say, it's just..she just doesn't want to do...it. And Lucius understands, he's fine with it. He just wants to have an heir, and then he swears he'll leave her be. He's already promised he won't force her to do it, but that doesn't mean he won't give her ridiculous puppy dog eyes and extravagant gifts( _let's_ _be_ _real_ _here_ , _they're_ _bribes_ ) to try and convince her to have sex. Good grief, she doesn't even like the _sound_ of the word.

...

She does, however, like the sound of her newborn son's gurgles and coos. Though the sound of Lucius screaming at his father faintly in the background is something she could do without. Honestly, Narcissa doesn't even know what it's about this time, the two men's arguments often range from topics as mundane as what the name of the exact hue of the sky is to topics like where one goes when they die. Narcissa honestly doesn't care for the life of her. She just cares for the baby in her arms, and is ecstatic simply for the fact that he exists( _she feels so very selfish though, because as much as she loves her son just because he's her son, she also loves what he represents; her end of the bargain has been upheld, and she'll never have to have sex again if she doesn't want_ ).

" I apologize for leaving you, father had the urge to speak with me," Lucius says, walking over to the bed on which his wife and son lay.

" It sounds like you didn't share the same urge."

" However could you think that? Well, he wished to inform me that our son's name will be Abraxes Tiberius Malfoy. I informed him that he was incredibly mistaken."

" Sounds like it went well."

" Oh indubitably. He raged, spouted immense amounts of vitriol, and frothed at the mouth, a bit. He was removed from the hospital when he hexed an intervening nurse."

" Good riddance."

" Indeed."

Looking around a bit, Lucius discreetly applies a silencing charm to their room, as well as a privacy ward to the door. Narcissa can't help wondering just what secret he wishes to impart that requires such measures to be taken.

" Luc?"

" I did not wish what we are saying to be overheard; if what we are about to discuss ended up in the papers there would be quite the scandal."

" What exactly do you wish to discuss? The fact that I'll murder your father if the cantankerous old prune so much as looks at my son?"

Lucius chokes back a laugh before replying," No, not your plans of patricide. I mean our upcoming living arrangements. I have had the elves clear out and redecorate a large bedroom conjoined with the nursery, so that when we return to the manor you may move out of our shared quarters, and, indeed, our shared wing-"

" Why?"

" Huh?," comes Lucius's oh-so-eloquent response.

" Why do you want me to move out of our room?"

" I-I don't? I thought that you would not want to remain-"

" Of course I do you numpty. I don't particularly want to fuck you, I never said anything about being in the same room as you. I happen to like sharing a bed, actually. You're like a giant stuffed animal with an intense warming charm, why would I give that up?"

" Oh.."

" Oh indeed. Actually, when we get home, would you mind having the elves set up the nursery in the room next to ours? We can charm a doorway between the two rooms fairly easily."

" Oh."

" Is that all you're capable of saying?"

* * *

  _Damn_ _it_ _damn_ _it_ _damn_ _it_ _damn_ _it_!, he thinks. He's an idiot, clearly. Why else would he have told his parents the truth. No, not an idiot, just suicidal, if the resulting crucios are anything to go by. And now, after being cursed for what feels like hours, Polaris has been chucked into his room, with the promise that if he's tries to leave he'll regret it. Which is why he's surprised when his door creaks open.

" What happened?! What...what did you _do_!?"

" I told the truth to our, as you put it, spiteful second cousins. They were not appreciative. Now I'm engaged."

Sirius feels sick. He runs forwards, murmuring healing incantations and doing his best to ignore his cousin's terrified flinch when he points the wand at him. All this, because Cygnus and Druella are living pieces of excrement who can't accept their own child. Slowly but surely, the wounds close up and the bruises fade and the blood is wiped away. You almost wouldn't know that moments before, Polaris looked like death warmed over.

" Maybe they didn't like me choosing your new name, eh? Or maybe they would've preferred you being Cygnus junior.."

" Sirius."

" Sorry, I just..fuck. Why..why don't you run away? There has to be somewhere you could-"

" Fuck no there isn't. I can't leave anyways, I've been covered with different binding and tracking charms, in addition to those lovely curses you reversed some of the damage from. I'm stuck, and I'll be stuck until I'm married to Rodolphus fucking Lestrange, and then I'll be even more fucked, and permanently so."

" _LeDouche_? They're making you marry _LeDouche_?! Bu-bu-wha-"

" Are you done yet?"

" Why!?"

" Because apparently I need a 'strong pureblood man to corral me and teach me a woman's place.' That's why. The fact that he's the Lestrange Heir helps quite a bit."

" I can..I can break you out! Or, uhm, _polyjuice_! We can brew polyjuice and switch next time I visit and-"

" One, you're twelve, and powerful though you may be, the ward would fry you; two, you're absolute hyppogryph shit at potion brewing. Just give up, gods know I have."

* * *

She should not be jealous of a _child_. Moreover, she should not be jealous of her _own_ child. Nonetheless, she absolutely is. Because of this, she's retreated to her room, after kissing Nym on the head and saying she's so proud of her.

" Hey Andy, you ok?," Ted asks, poking his head through the door.

" I'm a terrible parent. A horrible parent. I'm-"

" A _good_ parent; why wouldn't you be?"

" I _am!_ I..Ted, I'm jealous of my own child, how does that make me a good-Ted what the hell are you doing?"

" I am hugging you. When somebody you love is upset, you hug them. You are upset, so I am hugging you."

" Ted, I don't deserve-"

" Nonsense, of course you do. And anyways, it's perfectly normal for you of all people to be jealous of a metamorphmagus, even if said metamorphmagus _is_ your own daughter."

" I just-It isn't that I'm not happy for her, I am, only..only I wish I'd been born with that trait. If I had been, my parents wouldn't have given a shite about how I felt, I wouldn't have problems. And if Po had been born a metamorphmagus, he wouldn't be enslaved to a madman. To two, actually. And it just, it seems unfair that the ability would skip the most fucked up generation of Blacks and end up being inherited by a Black, well, Tonks, that doesn't need it. And that _does_ make me a bad parent, because really I'm not happy, not like I should be and-"

" Shoosh. You. Are. A. Good. Parent. End of story. Also, I'd say the generation of Blacks that all married each other was the most fucked up one, not yours. No, your generation of Blacks is the most fucked _over_ one."

For a few minutes they just sit on their bed in each other's embrace. Then, a head of bubblegum pink hair pops through the door.

" Can I come in?"

" Of course you can Nym. Come'ere," Ted says, grinning as the five year old clambers up on their laps.

* * *

Draco, her darling boy, is afraid of something. She knows it. He's biting his lower lip, pursing his eyebrows, and has ran his hand through his hair not once, not twice, but three times in half as many minutes.

" Darling, what's wrong?," Narcissa asks.

" Grandfather..he.. _hesaidyoudidn'tlovedaddyandthatyou'regonnaleaveus_!," Draco rushes out, waving his tiny hands anxiously.

" Your grandfather is wrong about many things little dragon, and that is one of those things. I love your father very dearly, and I have no intention of leaving him."

" But grandfather said if you loved Daddy you'd 'give him a spare'? And that you don't even try to do that?," Draco replies, looking confused.

 _One, two, three, one, two, three, in, and out, in, and out, he is not worth Azkaban, he_ is _not worth Azkaban,_ Narcissa repeats internally. Since she first met Abraxes Septimus Malfoy, those words have become her mantra, almost her motto.

" We don't need a spare darling boy, we have you," Narcissa reassures.

Draco smiles, chirping a happy ok before running out of the sitting room, likely to go find a house elf to play with.

" Dobby."

" Yes Mistress Malfoy? What does yous be needing?"

" Keep Abraxes _away_ from my son. Or rather, keep Draco away from Abraxes. That is all."

" Of course Mistress, right away."

* * *

Sometimes, he can manage to defy not only the Bonding, but the Dark Mark and the Contract as well. It's simple really. All three restrictions( _because really how can they be anything else),_ are bound to one particular woman; Bellatrix Lestrange. But in her heart, Bellatrix Lestrange is still Polaris Aquila Black, and _she_ is a _he._ And if he concentrates on that enough, it works. He just wishes it was working right now. Mainly, because he's fighting his cousin, Sirius, and he's afraid Sirius is losing.

Gods, he hates the Bond the most. That's what made everything go to hell for him. The Bond is an insidious piece of magic, in the wrong hands and even in the right ones; it's _supposed_ to be a replacement for a Soul Bond, for those whose soul mates die or are unrequited. Instead, it chains one person to another, and makes them subject to the other persons whims, all on the premise that in a Soul Bond the partners are not equal, but instead one should have more power than the other. Which means Rodolphus easily used the Bond to force him to sign the marriage contract that gave Rodolphus even more control over him. With a bloodquill no less. And of course, the combined power of both Contract and Bond was enough to force him to take the Dark Mark, perfecting his loss of control. 

The Dark Mark is something twisted on its own, of course. A sick version of a Soul Mark, that connects the Death Eaters soul and magic to the Dark Lord, putting both under his control. Polaris could not be less pleased about being connected to that noseless, misogynistic prick. But did he get a say in it? In _anything_ in his life bar his chosen name? _Noooooo._

And because of that, Polaris is having to try and kill Sirius. Fuck his _life_. For a moment though, he has enough awareness to try and scream some since into the moron.

" _Run you idiot!_ ," he yells, fury and concern cracking his voice.

" Po!," Sirius cries, a grin gracing his features for an instant.

" Damnit Sirius, this isn't the time! Get away before-"

Polaris chokes on his words. It's not enough, the force of Rodolphus's will and fury comes bearing down on him and shatters his own will. Polaris is washed away, and Bellatrix, the perfect Death Eater, Rodolphus's perfect _wife_ is all that's left. But not before Polaris manages to send a stunner Sirius's way, hoping that the others won't attack him if they think he's dead. 

Except it goes _wrong_ , it goes _so wrong_ , Sirius is falling through the Veil and he's locked in the back of his own mind and can't even do anything to stop it. And then he's running, a merry chase through the Ministry with the Boy-Who-Lived, and he's on the floor under an unpracticed cruciatus and he sees, in the boy's green eyes, the Black Madness. Must have gotten it from his  grandmother.

* * *

Andy still feels a bit young to be a grandparent. They're always a bit surprised when Teddy clambers onto her lap crying 'Grandy', feels a bit strange coming to Grandparents Day at Teddy's primary school. Of course, Andy is no stranger to feeling strange. These are the things Andy ponders on while sitting on one of the sofas in the Grimmauld Place sitting room.

" Grandy, Grandy, look what Harry got me!," Teddy crows, racing into the room and twirling around excitedly.

" Hmm, wha-oh! That's a very nice skirt Teddy," Andy says, blinking a bit.

" It's _blue,_ Grandy! And its sparkly! Uncle Dray said he's jealous that I got such a nice skirt, and if I take it off he might put it on and not take it off, cause its sparkly and sparkles is his favorite color! He's so silly, huh?," Teddy chatters.

" Yes, he is very silly," Andy agrees.

...

Later, Andy snags Harry for a private conversation, finding themself a bit worried.

" So, what exactly made you get Teddy the skirt."

" Uh, he wanted it, so I said ok?"

" And you're ok with that."

" Yup."

" It's not that simple-"

" Really, it is Andy. Trust me. See, my parenting style is essentially this; if the Dursleys approve of themselves or Dudley doing it, don't do it, if they disapprove, it's perfectly fine. For example, never murder, lie, steal, cheat, starve a child, beat a child, scream at a child, over feed a child, spoil a child rotten, and or be a lazy bum, and so on. And, in the same vein, do encourage others, help others, refrain from gossiping, and treat both children and everyone else ok even if they're somehow different from you. Would the Dursleys be ok with Teddy getting a skirt? Hell no. Did Teddy want that skirt and give me puppy dog eyes over it? Yes, yes he did. Really, the choice was simple."

* * *

" But _whyyyyyyyyyyyyyy,"_ Draco whines.

" Because it isn't-it isn't _normal_ Draco! And being abnormal, it's _not a good thing!"_

Draco looks at his mother closely, and realizes something that scares him, a little. Her hands are shaking, and that's something he hasn't seen since he was little, and her parents were visiting.

" Mum, are you ok?"

" I am fine dear, there is no need to worry. But I wish you and your friends would cease this foolishness and dress properly. I realize you are all trying to make a point, but that isn't worth being harmed over!"

" Mum, nobody is going to hurt us over crossdressing. Get annoyed, maybe, but actually harm us? Huh-uh, no way. We're kind of war heroes, you know. And besides, even if they trie-"

_Pop._

Both Malfoys turned to stare at the house elf who's just arrived.

" I bes begging your pardon, Mistress Malloy and Young Master Draco, but a Mrs. Tonks is wanting to sees yous. She is being in the Floo Parlour."

" Send her in then Mipsy," Narcissa replies, looking a bit confused.

" Hello Cissa, Draco."

" Oh Merlin not you too!?"

" Not me too what?"

" You're crossdressing too! That's what!"

" Why is that such a problem?"

" Well, mum seems to think that being abnormal is going to get us murdered or something."

" Oh for the love of-ok, Draco, shoo. I'm going to talk to my little sister, and you're going to skedaddle, got it?"

" Ooookaaay. See you in a bit mum, Andy," Draco replies, walking out of the sitting room and closing the door behind him.

Andy walks over and kneels, clasping Narcissa's shaking hands gently.

" Cissa, why are you really upset?," Andy murmurs.

" You know why! I already said it to Draco, being abnormal gets you nothing but pain!," she hisses.

" Cissa, who is it you think is going to hurt us. Cygnus, Druella, Orion, or Walburga? They're all gone. They can't touch you, they can't curse you, nothing they thought or said matters now. We're safe now. And..and I'm sorry I left you alone, I'm sorry I abandoned you, that I wasn't there for you. I'm sorry I didn't protect you like I should have. I'm sorry that they've hurt you so much that you are scared stiff of anything deviateing even slightly from the norm. I'm sorry that I couldn't keep them from cursing you so badly that your hands shake and your legs lock up and you can't breathe. But they can't do it again, and no one else ever will because I won't let them. I'll be here for you, I'll protect you, and I will make up for every day I left you alone in that gods-forsaken manor with our family," Andy replies, voice cracking and catching.

" I..I..Andy, you can't..how do you _know?_ How do you know someone won't hurt them for being different? How can you be sure?"

" Because not everyone is like our parents, for one. For another, those children are more than just children; they're soldiers, they've had to be. They never leave that house alone and alone is the only way someone could take them down. Besides that, they have us, the last Blacks. And gods know we aren't going to let anyone hurt them the way we were."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I just wanted to say a few things about Bellatrix(aka Polaris), Andromeda, and Narcissa.
> 
> In this fic Bellatrix identifies as a male, and goes by the name Polaris when possible. Andromeda, who goes by Andy, is gender fluid, or possibly gender flux(I think that's the correct term?). Sometimes Andy feels like a girl, sometimes like a boy, and sometimes not like anything at all. Therefore, sometimes Andy is referred to as they/them, and sometimes as she/her. This is the reason Teddy calls them Grandy instead of Grandma or Grandpa. Narcissa is asexual, though she isn't aromantic. Narcissa is also fairly screwed up because of her parents abuse, and has a deeply ingrained fear of abnormality because of it, one much more extreme than Harry's. Mainly because Harry has had help getting over what has been done to him, and has a good support system, whereas Narcissa hasn't really had either of those things.
> 
> And, finally, I would like to apologize if anyone feels I have misrepresented the different gender identities and sexualities addressed in this chapter in any way. Unlike child abuse, PTSD, suicidal ideation and the like, I have never had first or second hand experience with body dysphoria, transexuality, gender fluidity, or asexuality. I had to research these things in an effort to make this chapter in any way accurate. So, if I fucked up on the accuracy front, I apologize. 
> 
> On a somewhat unrelated note, what do you guys think I should put in the story tags? Like, as trigger warnings and the like. I'm thinking of reorganizing the tags soon and I'm wondering. Feel free to comment, and thanks for reading.
> 
> P.S.: I was wrong. It is now 12:18.


	16. Just a little confused, nothing new

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " You can't follow your heart when it's more confused than your head."  
> -Unknown
> 
> Harry has always been a little confused when it came to love; first he wasn't sure his soulmate would love him, then he knew he didn't, then he thought maybe he liked someone, but that someone turned out to be his soulmate, but he also liked someone, but that soulmate turned out to only want to date her own soulmate, who Harry is not, then he liked someone else(liked three someone's, consecutively), then he liked someone who liked him back, and then his soulmate killed him, and then he killed his soulmate, and everything is just fucked up, ok?

It's funny, but the first person he ever talks to about it, is Percy. Or maybe not so funny, considering just what he is talking about..

" Um, Percy?"

Percy looks down, startled by the sudden appearance of the tiny, oddly pensive twelve year old. He blinks once, twice, three times, stunned slightly that anyone else is up at 4:30 a.m. like he is.

" Yes? Is something wrong? Why are you up so early?'

" I, uh, I have a question. And I think it's bad so I didn't want no one to hear," the boy mumbles.

Of course, Percy muses, Harry's perception of _bad_ seems entirely skewed, so really he doesn't quite know _what_ the boy is actually going to say.

" I'm sure whatever your question is, it isn't too terrible."

" I...um...I think, maybe... _IthinkIlikegirlsbutIthinkIlikeboystoolikeyoulikeOliverbutIdon'tknowIjustknowI'mnotsupposedtocausetheDursley's-_ "

"Harry, _breathe_ _._ And maybe repeat that last part because I haven't the faintest idea of what you said. Like, at all."

" I...I like girls..-' ( _why is this an emergency? Percy thinks, somewhat exasperated_ ) '-but I like boys too, I think? And I know I'm not supposed to, cause the Dursley's said that's bad."

OK, now Percy gets it.

" No Harry, there is absolutely nothing wrong with liking boys, or girls, or both, or neither. And these 'Dursley's' you speak of must be bigoted idiots-'

Harry gasps and looks around as though he expects these 'Dursley' folk to crawl out of the walls and eat him. Percy winces, but continues.

"-to ever tell you that it's wrong to love. So, are there any special people who've got you confused like this?"

" W-well..um.."

" If you don't want to tell me, that's fine Harry. And if you do, I give you my word that I won't tell anyone else," Percy reassures him.

" Erm, there's one girl, who's in my year, and she's really nice to me, and she helped me find a book, and she's really pretty, and she showed me where the kitchens are."

Percy blinks.

"You like Hermione?"

From the look on Harry's face, no, no he does _not._

" Hermione's like my sister! And the girl, she's not in our House, anyways. Neither is the, um, the boy I like..a lot."

" He's not, is he? Well, what do you like about this boy who's not in our house?"

" He's nice to me too, really nice, he teaches me new spells, and he doesn't get mad when I don't learn stuff right away, and he's got really pretty grey eyes and wavy brown hair and he makes me feel funny when I look at him,and he tells me jokes, and he helped me get better at writing, and he's really nice and I like him a lot and he's pretty."

Percy has to hide an amused grin as the small boy rambles on and on about his crush. Really it's adorable, Percy thinks.

" You didn't say he's in your year, and since he's teaching you things I'd guess he isn't in the year below you..."

" Oh, uhm, he's older. At least I think so, cause he's really tall. I think he's as tall as _you,_ Percy!," Harry replies, looking in awe of Percy's height.

Of course, Harry is shorter and skinnier than most first years, so Percy is pretty sure he's in awe of _everyone_ _'s_ height.

" I see. Well, do you want to tell me what House he's in, or his name? I might know him.."

" Maybe not his House, I don't think you'd like him then, but his name is Tom."

* * *

" Mate, if you don't close your mouth, you'll catch flies," Ron mumbles, tapping him on the shoulder.

" Huh?," Harry replies eloquently.

" If you stare any harder, you'll burn a hole through Chang's head. And I thought you liked Susan, anyways."

Harry huffs indignantly, before reminding Ron that Susan is a _Hufflepuff_ , and he's on their House-wide shitlist.

" Well fine, moon after Chang then, but she's dating Diggory, so you're probably on her shitlist too."

" Damnit!"

" And Diggory is straight as an arrow, so he's out of the question for more reasons than one," Ron adds in a low whisper.

He knows,( _actually, Ron is pretty sure everyone with eyes knows, Harry is painfully obvious when he has a crush_ ), that Harry has been carrying a torch for Huffledouche,( _and Diggory knows it too, there's a reason Ron calls him Huffledouche_ ), since third year. Harry isn't a shallow person, by any means, and Ron knows this, but seriously, have one super pretty person be nice to the boy more than three times and he was a sucker for them. It happened with Susan, it happened with He-Who-Is-A-Prick,( _1.0 not Quirellmort, ew_ ), it happened with Douchery, and, actually, Ron isn't exactly sure _what_ happened with Chang. Still, the point is Harry gets completely smitten with people who are nice to him, and Ron feels its his duty to vet these people and make sure they won't hurt his friend. Like Huffledouche. Of course, Harry wasn't the only one Ron has to worry about. Hermione has been acting funny too. Usually, he could rely on her to be sensible about emotions and stuff, but _nooooo_ , one look at that French bint and she's acting as smitten as Harry does on a daily basis. Ugh. Sometimes, Ron thinks he's the only one with sense. And oh joy, here comes the invader now.

" Bonsoir. Ah, pardon me, but are you wanting ze bouillabaisse?"

After watching Hermione try and fail to come up with a comprehendible reply for about ten seconds, Ron chimes in, hoping to save his friend further embarrassment.

" Nope, nobody's eating the..erm..beejubee."

" Bless you."

" I wasn't sneezing. I was saying you can have...the...whatever it is."

" Ah, I see. Well, adieu."

Ron looked over to Hermione, who was faintly blushing, and raised an eyebrow.

" Shut up."

" Didn't say anyth-Mate! Quit mooning over Douchery!''

* * *

Harry was flying. Flying always cleared his head, and, well...he _definitely_ needed it. He still hadn't found a date. Ron and Hermione had though, so that was good. Ron was going with a rather forceful girl from Durmstrang,( _and had actually managed to get better robes thank God),_ and Hermione was going with the girl who had so flustered her when they first met( _and was now the Beauxbatons champion. Who'da thunk it?_ ). Ron was incredibly wary about Delacour, and had at first been convinced the French witch was casting some sort of spell on Hermione, because Hermione never acted that way. Hermione admitted she had actually already checked, and furthermore knew it couldn't be the other girl's allure, because that didn't work on someone who'd already met their soulmate. Harry had pointed out that maybe Hermione had just had her head out of a book long enough to notice someone. He was smacked.

Still, the point is that both of his friends had been asked to the ball( _technically, in Ron's case, he was simply informed that he was going with the girl, by the girl herself...)_ , and he still hasn't gotten a date. So, Harry mopes. He flies loopty-loops, mopes, practices his sloth-grip, tries a few Wronsky Feints, mopes, hangs off of his broom by his legs, mopes, tries broom surfing, loses his balance, falls, realizes that was actually a very bad idea, mopes about his life choices, prepares to die, is caught in someone's right arm while their left grabs his errant broom, stares up into dark brown eyes, decides that maybe he doesn't need to mope after all, and says hi.

" I haff heard you are a good flier, but I am afraid zat zis is evidence to ze contrary," his rescuer replies.

" Well, usually I don't fall off," Harry counters, before realizing that ' _oh, hey, this is Victor Krum. Holy shit, Viktor Krum saw me fall off of my broom.'_

" Is zat so? Zen perhaps you vould like to fly viz me and show me how vell you fly ven you are not falling?"

" Sure," Harry answers, before grabbing his broom from Viktor's hand, jumping out of the other boy's arms onto it, and flying off.

Viktor grins, before giving chase.

* * *

The three of them meet up in the common room, dressed to the nines and terrified that their dates won't like what they're wearing. Ron's mother had sent him a fitted, forest green robe with ivory and gold trim, which was infinitely better than the robes he'd had before. Hermione was resplendent in a pale saffron number that looked like it belonged in a Disney cartoon, according to Harry. And speaking of Harry, his robe was actually closer to a scarlet tunic than anything else. Billowing sleeves that tied close at the wrist, form fitting around his torso, and flaring out from the golden sash at his waist to the edges, which came to his knees. He wore tight cream colored breeches and charcoal boots that came halfway up his calves. The clothing choices were _supposed_ to complement what their dates were wearing, but none of the three were quite sure that they would. They hadn't seen their dates yet, after all.

" Ok..we ready?"

" As ready as we're gonna get.."

" I hope? Oh damnit, where are we supposed to meet our dates?

" Hermione? You forgot something?"

" _And_ you cursed!?"

" Shut up you two."

" Well, I don't know where Ron's supposed to go-sorry mate-but you and I have to wait outside the Great Hall. Oh, and some advice; look like you're having the time of your lives, even if you aren't. Rub it in _their_ faces that you don't need them to be happy."

" Thanks mate. You do the same to Huffledouche, 'specially if he asks."

" Right."

" So, let's do this?"

The three look at each other, before chorusing their affirmations, and walking out of the portrait hole. The bravado has leached away by the time they make it to the Hall, only to slam back in full force when they see their dates and think ' _Holy hell, someone like that wants to go with someone like me!'._ Ron gives Harry and Hermione a quick thumbs up before walking over to his date, not sure if they caught it at all with how smitten they look. He offers his arm to his date, Ilia, and not once does he scan the crowd for Daphne. He sees Pansy though, who appears to be trying to bore holes through Fleur's head with her eyes. _Well,_ he thinks, _if you didn't want Hermione to go with someone else, maybe you shouldn't be such a prick._

" Zat Diggory boy, he does not look so good. Like he is haffing stomach problems."

" Yeah, well that Diggory boy is a-is something I shouldn't say in front of a lady-"

" I am no lady," Ilia cuts in.

" Maybe I meant McGonagall, you dunno. Ladyness aside, I wish all the stomach problems in the world on him."

" Vat, did you ask him and he declined?"

" What, ew, no, I wouldn't touch him with a ten foot pole. No, it's that he's been a prick to one of my best mates, repeatedly."

" Harry or Herminny?"

" Harry, actually."

" _Why_? It vould be like kicking a puppy!"

" I know, right?"

* * *

 They meet under their favorite tree the next day to gush. All three had received their first kisses, and all three of them are on cloud nine. 

" It was so _soft._ "

" And _fuzzy."_

 _"_ What, he has hairy lips?"

" No, around his lips. He has stubble, Ron. Duh."

" Stubble is gross."

" Nuh-uh, you're just saying that cause you only like girls."

" No, I'm just saying that because it's gross. And scratchy. Why would you want a scratchy kiss? That's just wierd."

" Ro-on, she's being mean to meee. She called me wierd!"

" You are mate. But that's ok, we all are."

" So, how was your kiss Ron?"

"...it was nice. And warm. I liked it."

" Yay, all of our first kisses were successful!"

" Sounds like it."

* * *

It's happened again. Granted, it's not a terrible person this time, or one who's going to break Harry's heart( _however unintentionally..),_ but still, it happens. Of course, Hermione finds herself being relieved that he has a crush on Ginny, instead of someone completely awful. Though Ginny is dating someone else, which is a bit of an obstacle..

" Screw you Lee!"

" That's all I wan-OW!"

Oh, so it looks like they're breaking up..

" Aw c'mon, I didn't mean it!"

" Yeah right! _Pituita Vespertillia_!"

Ouch, that had to hurt. Hermione knows for a fact that the bat bogey hex is quite painful..

" AAAAUGH-*hack, cough*-WHYYYYAAAUUUGH!!!"

" And don't think I didn't see you screwing Tessmacher in the supply closet!"

" It wasn't what it looked like!!"

" Bullshit! _Mactasteste!!"_

 _" AAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEE!!!_ "

" And I saw you fucking Turner in the naffing hallway! _TWICE!"_

Hermione winces. That must not have been fun to walk in on.

" If you would just give me some this wouldn't be a pro-"

_Crunch._

Welp, there goes the structural integrity of Lee Jordan's nose. Thanks to the haymaker of one Harry Potter.

" You bloody cheating arsehole! Don't blame her for your need to sleep with everything with a vagina!"

" Aw, my hero. Oh, I think you knocked him out..."

" Meh."

Meh indeed, Hermione thinks. Honestly, Lee has continuously treated Ginny like shit, so Hermione doesn't feel a lot of sympathy for hi-ok, maybe now she does, because Fred and George just dragged him away. Actually, no, no she doesn't. He hit on her just a week ago.

* * *

Somehow, this battle is worse than he ever thought it'd be. And it's a battle, not just of children against impossible odds, but of two opposing armies, one of which is lead by him, one of which is headed by..his..soulmate. To-no, no, not Tom, Tom was funny and sweet and kind, Tom maybe loved him( _and god he loved Tom, with all the love his hesitant, hopeful, torn up little heart could muster)_ , but Voldemort, Voldemort who keeps trying to kill Harry, Voldemort who ripped up his own soul in order to silence the agonized cry of his soulbond., Voldemort who is...who is going to _kill him._

Because oh god, oh god, oh god, Harry is the last Horcrux, the one Voldemort never meant to make( _how poetic, fucking Shakespearean, a piece of his soulmate's soul resides within him, within his scar, and he must die to kill his soulmate_ ). Always a mistake, huh Harry?

And then he's screaming his rage and frustration at a portrait, _you didn't tell me why didn't you tell me it was my right to know my right to know why to know that I have to die I have to_ die _don't you get that don't you understand don't you know it just feels like giving up I have to let him kill me it hurts it hurts it's all your_ fault _I hate you I hate you I  h a t e   y o u!!!_

And he breaks down sobbing in the floor, the boy-who-lived-to-die-rejected-and-alone.

And he wipes his tears, 

                                 walks down the winding stairs,

                                                                             into the Forest,

                                                                                                  and dies, mocked and despised and so very alone.

 

Of course, there's a bit more to it than that. He uses the Cloak and the Stone before he is slain by the Wand. And Ron and Hermione, they say goodbye, and his mother and father and papa and pops say hello, because he's about to join them. And Voldemort, he says goodbye, too, before he says _Avada Kedavra._ Those are the first and last words he will ever hear his soulmate say, Harry thinks, as the green light washes over him.

* * *

 

He wakes up screaming. It's the second time this week and Ginny is getting a little worried. Not just her, though, they all are. And they know, the anniversary of the Battle is coming up, the second to be exact, and, well, that brings up bad memories, for Harry most of all. It's just, it hurts to see him this way, panting and wild eyed and uncomprehending.

" G-Ginny?," he asks hoarsely, the echo of a scream in his throat.

" Yeah Ry, I'm here. S'just me."

" Sorry I woke you up, not s'posed ta scream-"

Oh damn he must be out of it. He seems to half think he's with the Dursleys..

" No, don't apologize, you didn't do anything wrong."

" Always do somethin' wrong.."

" Not this time, I promise."

" 'Kay. Love you."

" Love you too. Goodnight, Ry."

He doesn't answer, though she didn't expect him to. That's ok though. Everything is ok, actually. Or at least, it's getting there, Ginny thinks, curling up beside Harry to sleep.


	17. Make you feel my love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " So that’s what you must remember when you love a person from a broken family – there will be days when they simply feel like they don’t deserve you or your love or this beautiful life you’ve created together. It’s the feeling deep down on their darkest days that they’ll never be enough. When you love a person from a broken family don’t try to fix their issues or understand everything about where they came from – just a little bit of space for them flourish is all they need to grow."
> 
> -Koty Neelis
> 
> They're all a little-ok, a _lot_ -broken. Some of them, less so then others, but shattered by love, by hate, by war. By family who taught them they will never be good enough, by a world that says the same. But they know how to put each other back together, piece by piece.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cough*incoming angst*cough*

Get it off get it off _get it off._ She scrubs frantically at her hands, water swirling down the drain with a gurgle that sounds all too similar to something else, something _hedidshedidhe_ _ **madeherdo**_ _._  

" Gin? Gin, what's wrong-shit, hey, no, come here-"

And Harry's pulling her away, back to their bed, to sit in the dim lamp light and he holds her while she cries, tears streaming down her face as she sobs wretchedly. She can't look at him, because she knows she'll see his sleep mussed hair and the cut of his jaw and the slope of his brow and only see Tom instead, because _god_ they look so similar that it makes her sick sometimes. And she knows it's not just Harry, knows she looks like Tom too, red hair not withstanding, her grey eyes and pale skin and nose and lips, knows that when she gets angry her eyes tint bloody and scare him to death.

" Gin? What happened? Did you have the dream again?"

" Y-yes. The roosters, and the Ch-chamber, and y-you and him and-"

And then he pulls her into his lap, and they're rocking back and forth, and the words keep coming out and he's crying and she's crying and they're both complete messes. It hurts, everything hurts, she keeps remembering the terrifying loss of self, Tom's sweet words and sinister lies, Harry bleeding out and saying that the blood dousing him was the basilisk's not his. 

" He can't hurt you, he's gone he's gone and he won't come back, not ever, promise you, I won't let him..."

They fall asleep that way, twined around each other as to feel as much of each other as possible, and they wake up much the same, sore and aching and shaking. And it's a little better, better than it was yesterday, and the day before that, and all the days before that. That's how it always is, a little bit better, one step at a time.

* * *

 The first time Hermione killed someone, she was 15. It was her first real battle, the Defence of Ottery-Saint-Catchpole, and she killed a Death Eater with a severing charm to the throat. Instead of a sense of satisfaction, or sickness, or guilt, all Hermione felt was a pervading sense of numbness. She killed three more Death Eaters that day, and wounded countless more. However, the only one she really remembers is the first, because it was Marcus Flint.

She had recognized him instantly, his jutting brow and mangled teeth and _torn throat._  See, his mask had been knocked off with the force behind her charm. So, she saw the life leave his eyes even as the blood left his throat. And she still dreams about it sometimes, because he wasn't that much older than her. It could have been any other student that she'd killed, even one that was her age. And it still wouldn't have mattered because it was war.

The last person Hermione killed was Bellatrix Lestrange. Bellatrix had targeted both Hermione and Neville specifically in the Seige of Hogwarts, dogging their steps with an insane ferocity. She ended up cornering Hermione even as Harry fought Voldemort for the last time, taunting her and cursing her. And when Hermione raised her wand, and cast the bludgeoning charm directly at the other witch's head, Bellatrix did something that, to this day, Hermione has never understood. She smiled. Lowered her wand. And stood still.

Her first kill,( _her first battle, technically, but all Hermione could hear was ' For killing Marcus Flint' when she was told ' For your service in the line of duty'),_ won her a Medal of Bravery,( _except she doesn't feel brave she feels like a murderer_ ), and her last won her an Order of Merlin, First Class. Those aren't the only 'achievements' Hermione earned throughout the course of SWW, but they're the ones she feels the worst about. Mainly, because of why she won them. Mainly, because Marcus was little more than a child, 17 at the most. Mainly, because if what Sirius and Andy and Narcissa have all said is correct, Bellatrix wouldn't have wanted to fight at all.

And sometimes, Hermione wakes up with the faces of all the people she's killed branded on the inside of her eyelids, the haunted faces of corpses, eyes dead and accusing. And the guilt bubbles up in her throat until she's sick with it until she feels like bawling and puking until she thinks _murderer_ should be carved into her arm instead of _mud blood._ Those are some of her worst days, days when she holes up in her room and cries and is crushed under the weight of what she feels, days when it's all Pansy can do to get her to eat, days when she feels tainted and worthless. So Pansy brings her food and brings her books and doesn't talk, because talking is not what she needs. And usually, by the next day, Hermione feels a bit better, enough to walk out of her room and actually be around other people. Some days are better than others, and some are so much worse.

* * *

There were three things no one knew about Neville Longbottom, until today. One, he is deathly afraid of heights. Two, he is terrified by water. Three, he won't go near fire even if you pay him a million galleons. Well, actually, four things. The fourth being that the first three things are all because of one Algernon Croaker. Of course, everyone decided today was a brilliant day to go to the beach. Neville, not wanting to rock the boat, agreed. By noon he wished he hadn't.

Everything was fine, at first. Then, Draco decided to transfigure several pieces of drift wood into a diving platform out on the pier. Neville, to his eternal regret, agreed to jump off of it. Ok, actually he was _dared_ to, but he didn't want to back out in front of Luna, so, he jumped. Big mistake. Looking down from thirty feet in the air, all Neville could see below him were paving stones, and the only thought in his head was an irrational,'what if I don't bounce?!'. Needless to say, he did not bounce. He splooshed. Headfirst, in fact. Then, Neville was faced with his next panic inducing thought; 'what if he doesn't pull me up!?'. Of course it only takes him about a second to remember that, oh, yes, he can in fact swim, and that no, nobody is holding him beneath the waves. Still, he stayed out of the water after that, and didn't so much as touch the diving platform. Harry, who'd come to sit with him, thought it was because he didn't swim very well, and considering Harry couldn't swim at all, decided to hang out with Neville so he didn't feel left out. So the two talked for a while, until all the others decided it was time to trudge up to the beach proper for supper, having already ate sandwiches out on the pier. Ginny, with greatly ostentatious motions, levitated the diving platform over to where they had gathered, and amassed it into the proper shape for a bonfire, before lighting it rather dramatically. And then it all goes to hell.

Neville is thrown rather violently into a flashback as soon as the heat radiates onto his skin, sparks singeing him slightly. It...isn't good. The word _squib_ rings in his ears even as phantom pains bleed across his face, neck, chest, arms, and hands. It takes about five minutes for him to come out of it, and ten to actually sit near the fire. Upon seeing the concern on his friend's faces, Neville decides to tell them what just happened. After all, if Harry can talk about his uncle Vernon, then Neville can talk about his great uncle Algie...right?

" Ok, so, uh, I guess some of you have noticed I've been kind of off today? Particularly just now?"

At the nods of consent and murmurs of affirmation get, he continues.

" Uh, well, I'm scared of heights, and water, and fire. I guess cause..when I was little, I didn't show a lot of overt signs of accidental magic. They all started to think I was a squib because of it. So, uh, Algie, he'd do stuff to try to scare the magic out of me, I guess? He,he held me under water for a long time when I was real little, and when Gran saw he just pulled me out and said I'd fallen in. Uh, I'd almost passed out, that time. Another time, he shot hexes at me until I'd climbed up a tree, and he wouldn't get me down, so I had to jump, and broke my leg. There was a couple of other times, too, that I don't remember so well, and one that I remember really well. He took me camping, and the first night he started a fire to cook the food. I was looking at the flames, because they were all different colors, and he...pushed me. I guess he thought my magic would protect me, or something, but..it didn't. I had to go to Saint Mungo's, it was so bad. And the last time he did anything, it worked. He dropped me out of the third story window, and I bounced. So, basically-"

" He tried to _kill you!! More than once!!_ ," Hermione shrieks. 

Neville looks utterly stunned, utterly disbelieving. 

" He didn't want to-to _kill me,_ he just, he wanted me to show magic!"

" What was the first thing he did that you remember?"

" Er, jumped out from behind doors and stuff?"

" And the last thing he _'_ tried' was _dropping you out of a window!"_

 _"_ That doesn't mean he wanted me dead!"

" Actually Neville...it probably does. When Tori and I were very young, we had an older brother, Caelum. He didn't show any magic, so my parents tried to scare it out of him, like your uncle did to you. The methods they used became more and more deadly, until one day, they murdered him."

" H-how?"

" They put him in the fireplace, locked the grate, and lit it. He couldn't get out, so they said he deserved it."

" Th-the _fire?_ "

" They tried to drown him, too. I guess your uncle was taking pointers from our parents," Astoria mutters quietly.

\--

Later that night, Neville cries. He cries because his uncle wanted him dead. He cries because his family had to have seen it, had to have known, and did nothing to stop him. He cries because he honestly doesn't know if his parents would have done the same thing. And Luna holds him, and cries with him.

* * *

" _Boy! Get over here! What do you think you are doing!?"_

_" G-g-grandfather, I was just t-talking to the por-por-portraits-"_

_" In m-m-my wi-wi-wi-wing of the man-n-nor, you little stuttering fool!? Get over here NOW!!"_

_Trembling, Draco takes a few hesitant steps towards his grandfather, before he's backhanded into the floor. His ears are ringing, and something is dripping into his eyes, and he is oh so scared._

_"-up, get UP you sniveling wretch! Stupid boy! Worthl-"_

_THUMP_

_Its not his fault, it's not it's not it's not, he didn't mean to-_

_" Dobby!," the little boy cries in distress._

_" Young Master Malfoy, what was Old Master Malloy being doing to yous? Whys didn't yous call for me before?"_

_" D-dobby he's not m-m-m-moving! There was a buncha lights an now he's not moving!!"_

_" Yous come with me, it bes ok," the house elf murmurs, popping himself and Draco into the library with Narcissa._

_" Dobby, what are y-Draco what happened to you?!"_

_" Bad Old Master Malfoy bes hurting him, and his magics be hurting him back!"_

_" I didn't mean to, I didn't I'm sorry-"_

_" Draco, Draco you did nothing wrong, Draco, Draco it's ok_ wake up, you're dreaming!"

" T-tori? What's going on? What's wrong?," he mumbles, looking up at her in confusion.

The moonlight paints her in contrast, silvery skin and ebon locks, eyes a dark charcoal color beneath the curtain of her hair, skin pulled taught across her features in fear. For a moment Draco thinks himself back at war, and he wonders who's attacking now.

" You were _screaming_ Draco! Screaming! I thought you were hurt, I didn't, I didn't know what was wrong with you-"

" Tori, Tori I'm fine, it's ok. I just, I had a bad...dream. About when g-grandfather died."

" Oh. Oh _Draco,_ you don't still blame yourself for that do you? You were six!"

" I still _killed him_ Tori. That's not anyone's fault but my own."

" He _hurt you,_ and you had a bout of accidental magic in defense. That's _his fault,_ not yours. You were a little boy and he was a deplorable, cantankerous, hate-filled, prejudiced old bastard who should never have been allowed near other human beings, let alone a _child._ He's the one that's to blame."

* * *

To be honest, Daphne hates fire just as much as Neville. Fire is the reason she has no brother, fire is the reason she can see thestrals. Fire is how the person she loved most in the world, other than Astoria, was stolen from her. She won't go near a fire place, particularly if it has a grate. Unfortunately, that meant spending the evening in solitude, because, shocker, tonight it's colder than Russian Hell and everyone has gathered in the family room of Grimmauld, in chairs and sofas and beanbags around the great big fireplace. With snake decals. And a grate. That _locks._ And looks _exactly like the one in the family room of Greengrass Manor._  Yeah, huh-uh, ain't no fucking way she's going near that damn thing.

" Hey Daph, you ok?"

" Oh, I'm fine Ronald. I just wanted a cup of tea, is all."

" Kreacher would have gotten it for you in a heartbeat, y'know. You didn't have to go in here to get one. S'bloody cold in here."

" I have a warming charm."

" A warming charm's no match for a great roaring fire."

( _A warming charm can't burn you alive.)_

" Ronald, I am _fine."_

" No, you aren't. Eh eh eh, don't interrupt. Look, I know you well enough to know when you're not fine, and you're not fine, Daph. Somethin's bothering you, and I just wanna know what it is cause maybe I can help-"

" You can't help, _no one can help!"_

Well, Ron is thankful he put up a silencing ward. He's pretty sure Daphne isn't going to want anyone to hear the ensuing conversation. And there _will be_ a conversation.

" Daph, please. I can see you hurting, and I don't want you to hurt. I want you to be happy. I want you to be able to go into the family room without freaking the fuck out. And I think-I think I know _why_ you do, but I don't want to assume and-"

" It's the damned fireplace. I hate the damned fireplace. I think either the Blacks or the Greengrasses took interior decorating tips from each other, because it's an exact fucking replica of the one at the manor, down to the little fucking snakes that Harry swears talk to him."

" Why isn't Tori bothered by it, then? She saw...it...too, didn't she?"

" She was too little to remember it. And I think she blocked it out, anyways. I never told her what fireplace they did it in, and there are several in the manor, s-so she doesn't really have any particular negative associations with that fireplace."

" But you remember."

" Crystal clear."

" Well, then we can blow the damn thing up. Of course, Harry will probably insist on saving the little snakes, but other than that-"

" _Blow it up!?"_

 _"_ Well, ok, I guess that's a little extreme, I guess we could just have Kreacher-"

" What is yous wanting me to do?"

" Could you change how the fireplace looks? And take off the grate, but put a charm or something on it to keep anyone from falling in? Oh, and leave the snakes, cause Harry likes talking to to them?"

Kreacher snaps his fingers, and distantly several exclamations of shock, as well as expletives, are heard. A few seconds later, Harry is heard exclaiming,' Hector, Aries, Lyra, Astra, you're _safe!',_ followed by overjoyed hissing.

" Thanks, Kreacher!"

The withered old elf does not reply, instead popping away without a word.

" Ronald, wh-why? Why would you do that, for me?"

" Cause it bothered you to see it. It was a problem, so I fixed it."

Suddenly Ron has an armful of crying Daphne. It strikes him then, truly, how much she must have hated seeing that fireplace, how much it really must have hurt her to even see it, to be in the same room as it. He holds her tightly, stroking her hair as she cries, and decides that if her parents ever get out of Azkaban, they'll sorely wish they hadn't.

* * *

The funny thing about Skele-Gro, is that if it isn't ingested within three days of losing or otherwise breaking a bone, it doesn't work. And since they had been hiding out in a little shack for the foreseeable future, and they were afraid he'd get gangrene, Hermione, Harry, and Colin had, in concerted effort, amputated the shredded remains of his right leg, and cauterized it. If they'd been able to take down the anti-apparation wards a few days sooner, such a thing might not have been necessary. However, it took a week to take them down, and they'd amputated on the fourth day.

Ron doesn't blame them, or resent what they did. He knew he'd been bleeding out, and the blood replenishes were being wasted since he was bleeding faster than they were replenishing. Honestly, Ron doesn't blame anyone except the bastard who ripped it off. Killian Moore, a three hundred year old vampire, and an absolute sadist. Taking him-and several other attacking Vamps-out with a well timed, slightly over powered _Sol Iudici_ earned him a Saint Kresnik's Cross. The loss of his leg got an Ermengilde medal. Granted, he would rather have his _leg,_ but you get what you get...

The leg, or rather lack thereof, isn't so much of a problem, until he nearly looses the other one. Because there's no way he's walking around on _two_ prosthetics. Cushioning charms or not, the damn thing chafes like a bitch. So after Daphne fixes him up at St. Mungo's, Ron starts taking special care of both of his legs. Special care that comes in the form of heavily charmed pants, boots, socks, and robes. Overkill? Maybe. But he isn't taking any risks.

As is, now _both_ of his legs have phantom pains shooting up them constantly. And neither of of them...are very pretty to look at. His right leg ends in a stump where his knee should be, puckered pink scar tissue covering the end of it. The other one is covered in silver ropes scars from the tip of his toes to half way up his thigh. Needless to say, he sleeps in pajama pants and socks. Of course, when he and Daphne start sharing a bed, this does raise questions.

" Dear gods Ronald it's hotter than the bowels of hell in here, why are you wearing _trousers_ to _bed!?"_

Of course he's tired enough( _and drunk enough, coincidentally...)_  to say what he's actually thinking, instead of what he'd planned to, should such questions arise.

" Cause I don't wanna sleep in a glamour, they feel wierd," he whines.

" What do you mean a glamour? Since when do you wear a glamour!?"

" Since Killian stupid Moore yanked off my leg. An since tha' stupid muggle baitin' blighter blew my other leg up."

" Why would you need a glamour Ronald, I already saw your leg-"

" When you was _healin it._ Now s'all scar-ry an gross, an the other one's a ugly stump an I don't wan' you ta look at it," he mutters petulantly. 

" Ronald, I don't think any part of you is ugly."

" But you _will._ You'll see it an you won't wan' me no more _again_ cause you'll see how ugly I am and-"

She presses a finger to his lips to quiet him. It hurts, to think that part of him is still so scared she'll reject him..but she can't blame him. Not when it took eight years for her to accept him at all.

" Ronald, can you trust me? Please? Will you let me see your legs?"

" S'just a leg, the other one's _gone."_

 _"_ Alright. Will you let me see your leg, then?"

He looks at her for a moment, blue eyes sad and resigned. He's sure she's going to run, he's sure she's not gonna want him anymore...but he does it anyways. He grabs his wand from the nightstand and transfigures his pants into shorts. Ron looks away, not wanting to see her reaction. The nerves in his leg, the left one, that is, are so damaged that he can't feel her feather light touches across his skin. He peeks out of the corner of his eye to see her reaction, and she doesn't look disgusted...she looks _sorrowful._ For him! And-and Ron feels terrible, but he honestly expected Daphne to be repulsed. After all, he is when he looks at it and- _what is she doing she's taking off the prosthetic and if she wasn't disgusted before she will be now and_ huh? 

" Your scars don't make you ugly Ronald. You..you are so far from ugly that it's not even funny. And every scar on your body just makes you even more beautiful to me than you were before, and you know why? Because you got every one of these scars helping people, protecting people, fighting for people. These scars just show me how strong, how courageous, how selfless you are. These scars can't make me love you any less, they can only make me love you more."

And then she _kisses it,_  Ron's stupid ugly stump. And he doesn't feel quite so ugly anymore.

* * *

Astoria didn't show magic, in front of her parents at least, until she was nine. Astoria grew up terrified she'd be burned alive. The only reason her parents didn't pull increasingly dangerous stunts to find if she has magic is because one, the portraits had seen her have a burst of accidental magic, and two, Daphne had seen it too. Still, her parents were sceptical, and she's pretty sure if she hadn't been betrothed to Draco Malfoy she probably would've ended up _dead._

When she gets her Hogwarts letter, she's so relieved that she weeps. Daphne holds her as she sobs, and calls for a house elf to tell their parents the good news. Now there is no doubt in the senior Greengrass' minds that Astoria has magic. Now Astoria won't _die._ When she gets sorted into Slytherin, she almost cries from relief again, and takes a seat between Dapne and Draco. Both of them squeeze her hands under the table; both of them knew the consequences of not being sorted Slytherin. 

Still, Astoria is constantly worried, for herself, for Daphne. She's perpetually terrified that one of them is going to end up dead for some mistake out of their control. Astoria is almost manically obsessed with being utterly perfect, and...it gets noticed. Noticed enough that she is called up to the Headmaster's office.

" Lemon drop, dear girl?"

" N-no thank you, sir. Um, sir, if I may ask, why am I here?"

" Well Miss Greengrass, to put it simply, your teachers are becoming concerned about you. They seem to think you've been stressing yourself out over something..?"

" It's just, my brother, C-c-caelum. He..he died around this time of year and I guess it just bothers me a lot."

Well, it's not a total lie. It's not the whole truth, either.

" Ah yes. I was saddened to learn that young Caelum would not be joining us here at Hogwarts."

" What do you mean? Sir, Caelum was a _squib,"_ Astoria chokes out.

" No, he most certainly was not a squib. His name appeared in the Book when he was a few years old. It..was marked out when he turned ten."

" What?," is all she can make out, before she faints.

* * *

 

Xenophilius wasn't a bad man; he was, however, a terrible father. Half the time he forgot Luna was even present, off in his own world. He'd been this way since his wife had died, seemingly unable to bear the harsh reality without her in it. So, Luna was often left to fend for herself. Of course, Luna is terrified of being alone. Which, granted, that isn't actually the cause. Xeno leaving her alone so often just compounded the fear. No, the root of it is this; when Luna was seven years old, her mother dies horrifically in a potions accident. Luna waits alone, surrounded by( _and covered in)_ her mother's charred remains for hours until her father arrives home. Luna really, really hates being alone.

Which is why it sucks that everybody has apparently decided that this is 'hang out anywhere that isn't Grimmauld Place' day. So, Luna ends up sitting alone curled up by the fireplace hoping that everyone comes back soon. They don't. It takes hours. And then they avoid( _?)_ her as well, and they send Kreacher to distract her, and she just-she _hates_ it so much. Being alone has never been a good thing not at home not at school not in battle-and she just _doesn't want to be alone why did everybody leave why doesn't anyone want to be with her why does no one ever sta-_

" SUPRISE!!!"

Shes already wound up and hurting and scared and this doesn't help and so instead of laughing or something Luna bursts into tears.

" Great job Potter, you made her cry."

" _I_ made her cry, a surprise party was _your_ idea!"

" In every book I've read, the recipient of the surprise party doesn't cry-"

" Well Mya this isn't a book, is it?"

" Maybe the noise startled her?"

" Well someone should have mentioned that before I lit the firewor-"

**_CHEEEEEE_ **

**_BANG_ **

**_POP_ **

**_PEEEW_ **

**_EEEEEEOOOOO_ **

**_PAH_ **

**_BOOM_ **

**_CHEE CHEE CHEE_ **

**_BOOM-BOOM_ **

" Ya _think!?"_

 _"_  Guys!"

" **WHAT!** "

" Look, she's laughing!"

And it was true. Luna is doubled over laughing her lungs out, relief and joy warring in her gut. They haven't left her, they don't despise her, they are celebrating her birthday! Heck, they _remember_ her birthday!

" Lu, you alright?"

" Perfectly alright Neville."

How could she not be, when she's anything but alone? When she's surrounded by her family who care about her, care enough to put all this effort into throwing her a party?

* * *

 Petros and Rose Parkinson were simple souls; they wanted so few things in life, their children to marry well cheifly. No matter _how_ that occurred. So what if a mud blood or two had to die before Violet got it through her head that she needed to marry within her standing; and if Perseus needed a few crucios to see the light that wasn't so much to ask; the only child who really caused problems was _Pansy._ Pansy and the little mud blood chit she was so insistent on finding. So Pansy required a firmer hand, more crucios, more blows. When Pansy wrote home about the mud bloods Mark in first year, they were so proud. Pansy was _not._

And it took years for Pansy to gain the courage to stand up for herself. Unfortunately, standing up for herself didn't have such a good result.

" _What did you say young lady?!"_

" I said that if you're going to betrothed me, do it to a g-g-girl. I don't l-like boys that wa-"

**_CRACK_ **

" I have heard just about enough of that talk! _Crucio!"_

She manages to hold out for about thirty seconds before she screams. That's all it takes to get her mother to stop, thank the gods. Her mother has a house elf pop her to her room. She isn't given any supper. Pansy's fine with that though, she doesn't think she could stomach any.

\--

" Pansy? Are you alright?"

" Hm? Oh, yeah, I'm fine."

" Are you sure? Your hands are shaking..."

" Oh, I guess I'm just a little nervous to do...this."

And then she kisses her. It's a soft, chaste thing, that only lasts for a few seconds, but Hermione is still blushing from it.

" Y-you, you kissed me," she stutters, arithmancy homework forgotten.

" Yup."

" Uh, wh-why did you, uh, k-kiss me?"

" Someone once told me that we should kiss the girls we want to kiss."

" B-but why would you want to kiss m-m-me?"

" Because, you're a brilliant," _kiss,_ " intelligent," _kiss,_ " beautiful," _kiss,_ " brave," _kiss,_ " amazing witch. You're also my soulmate, so I'd say I get kissing dibs," Pansy says, smirking at the lipstick stains she's left all over Hermione's cheeks-and mouth.

The pale pink stands out starkly on her skin, even with her bright blush shading her cheeks a rosy chestnut color. 

" U-um."

" Yeeees?," Pansy drawls.

" C-c- _ouldwedothatagainmaybe?,"_ she squeaks.

" It'd be my pleasure."

* * *

Once upon a time, a little child lived in the cupboard under the stairs. It's name was Freak, or Boy, or Brat, depending on how much trouble it was in. And Freak's cupboard was a sanctuary as much as it was a prison, because no one could get in to hurt it, but it could never get out, either.

Then Freak started school, and learned his name was Harry James Potter. Harry liked his name, even if it seemed no one else did, even if Uncle spit 'Potter' like it was poison. But deep inside, Harry James Potter knew he was really Freak, no matter how normal it strived to be.

And then one day, he got a letter. It was a beautiful letter, with bright jewel green ink and soft creamy paper that he like to touch. But Aunt and Uncle found it, and burned it, and even though more and more cam he could not have any. In fact, they all moved out to an island to escape the letters.

But a giant called Hagrid came to the island, and gave the boy his letter, and showed him a whole new world where everyone believed he was a hero! Him! A Freak, and they thought it was a hero! And Hagrid showed Freak magic, and told it about it's parents, and that it would attend Hogwarts.

And Harry James Potter, also known as Freak, also known as Boy, also known Liar Bastard Brat Abomination, had many adventures at Hogwarts, and saved many lives. He lived and and laughed and learned, and even though the Mark on his chest destined him for hate, he loved.

He loved so greatly, and so deeply, that he went into a forest, all alone, to die for all those he had come to know, and those he had not, and even those who hated him. The one destined for him, marked his chest with green once more, _Avada Kedavra,_ destiny and death.

Yet, Harry James Potter did not stay dead, for his mother's love and his sacrifice called him back, and though the killing curse was a magic from the Dawn of Time, Love is a Deeper Magic still, and because of it Death itself worked backwards. And so the boy lived, Sacrifice and Innocence and Love protecting him.

Though he lived, the boy feigned death, until the moment was right. And then he struck, and after a long duel he felled the tyrant. And Harry James Potter's chest burnt like a brand, for his Soulmate was no more, vanquished by his very own hand. And sorrow befell him, though he did not weep.

A year passed, and the boy found a girl, or rather, he let himself love a girl, whom he'd known all along, who he'd been afraid to love. And the boy and the girl were broken, and their broken edges fit together like puzzle pieces. However, not all was well, for though you can take the boy out of the cupboard, you can't take the cupboard out of the boy.

For the boy could not help himself, the weight of many years telling him he was a Freak and an Awful Thing. The girl never gave up, though, even when he did. She loved him and told him he was loved, and good, and brave, and strong, until one day? One day, he even started to believe it.

And the boy and the girl live with other boys and girls, in the house of a dead man with shackled wrists. And though there isn't quite a Happily Ever After quite yet, that's perfectly ok. None of them are much more than children yet, after all. They have time to make happy endings.

Because they're young, all of them, child soldiers who know the pains of Marks that burned and bloomed and smeared, Marks that carried words to baffle and amuse and hurt and kill. None of them should know the pain of a Soulmate's hatred, or death, but already some of them do. But every single one of them are strong enough to bear it, to understand each other's weaknesses, and to give each other strength.

The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See what I meant? Lotsa lotsa angst. And some references, too.


	18. A Pact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " Samantha: Thomas Wolfe once said you can't go home again. Well, that's great for old Tom. But he wasn't a chick who made a pact with her friends when she was twelve to get together whenever any one of them needed each other. So here I am driving back to my childhood home in Indiana a place I can tell you I never wanted to see again.  
> [sighs]  
> Samantha: I guess a promise is a promise. Sure looks like I picked the wrong week to quit smoking."  
> -Now and Then (1995)
> 
> Or,
> 
> The Marauders made a pact, once upon a time. To protect each other and love each other and always stay true. Well, it may hurt like hell, but Moony is going to hold up his end of the bargain.

" You want me to _teach!?"_

 _"_ Yes. I think you'd be a perfect Defence Against the Dark Arts Teacher. Why don't you agree?"

" I'm a bloody _werewolf_ in case you've forgotten! Why in the world would you let me around children!?"

" Because you've never once hurt someone while transformed. And furthermore, because I expect you to _protect_ your cub. Sirius Black is on the loose, and from all accounts, he's coming for Harry."

" I-I.. _Fine."_

" Excellent!"

* * *

" So who is he?"

" R.J. Lupin."

" Oi, how do you know that?"

" Honestly Ronald, his name is on his suitca-Harry? Are you ok?"

" Huh? Yeah, I'm fine. It's just...he feels familiar.."

" Don't you mean looks familiar? I haven't seen you pokin' him or anything."

" No, _feels._ In here."

Remus tries not to smile. He doesn't want them to know that their talking woke him, after all. Still, he finds himself unreasonably happy. And then the fucking Dementors show up, and he finds out that apparently _his cub can remember his mother being murdered._

* * *

" Um, Professor?"

Remus looks up from the papers he's grading to see Harry worrying his lower lip, clearly nervous about something. In an instant, he's struck by how much his cub looks like Lily and James both. Lily's eyes and James hair and a mix of their skin, not quite as dark as James' but certainly not as paper white as Lily's( _poor girl could have burned up in the moon light, he swears..._ ). 

" Yes Harry?"

" Do..do I..know you? I-I mean, I know that I _know_ you from _here,_ but...from, from anywhere else?"

Remus was wondering when this would happen. Well, he's certainly not going to lie to Harry..so here goes nothing.

" Harry..I was a very good friend of your mother and father. I knew you when you were a baby."

" Then wh-why didn't _you_ take care of me!?"

And he didn't expect this, but the depth of pain in his cub's eyes is almost too much, and for a moment Remus can barely hold his gaze. He won't lie to Harry though, he won't. Remus owes the boy an explanation...even if it means he'll hate him.

" The Ministry...they wouldn't let me take you. I petitioned for custody and was shot down....on the grounds of being a dark creature."

" You're only dangerous one or two nights out of the month! You could've got a babysitter!"

" Yes, I-wait what!? How-I-What!?"

Harry cocks his head, highly reminiscent of a bird, for a moment.

" Cause you're always sick around the full moon and you're gone on it? And you burned your hand showing us a silver dagger in class?"

Remus blinks. Harry blinks. Green eyes meet amber. And then Remus laughs.

" You're as clever as your father. Cleverer, even. It took him all of first year to figure out what you did in a month."

Suddenly, Harry looks horrified, his eyes darting about to look at all of Remus' exposed scars.

" You've been a werewolf since you were _little?!_ Why-who would _do that!?_ "

Ok, considering James' reaction was 'wicked', Remus would say that Harry is a bit more like his mother. Her reaction was also one of enraged concern.

" Ah, that's kind of Fenrir Greyback's...schtick. Attacking children. And turning them. He's kind of a terrible person.."

Oh, and it seems Harry inherited Lily's Avada Kedavra eyes. Yikes.

" _He isn't a person at all he's a monster!! You shouldn't hurt kids!! You're not.._ you're not _supposed_ to..."

With an ache in his chest and nausea in his gut, Remus realizes Harry is speaking from experience.

* * *

 _He doesn't have a happy enough memory._ The words are still ringing in Remus's head. He's seen a lot of things about his cub that add up to paint an ugly picture. And the fact that Harry doesn't have a happy memory _makes it worse._ Remus is terrified for his cub, but no matter how many concerns he brings up to Dumbledore, the old man _won't fucking listen._

* * *

" It worked!! It worked it worked it worked! I did it!!!"

Remus laughs as he watches the boy bounce around the room, utterly ecstatic.

" So, what memory did you use? If you don't mind me asking, I mean."

" U-uh...w-well.. _ittookforevertothinkofamemorythatwasgoodenoughandIthoughtofflyingandIthoughtofmyfriendsandsincethosedidn'tworkIthoughtofwhenyouhuggedme!,"_ the boy rushes out. 

It takes Remus a moment to figure out just what Harry said, and when he does he gasps. Apparently Harry thinks he's mad, because he backs up a few steps and starts stuttering out _sorrysorrysorryI'msosorry_  until Remus cuts him off with a hug. Harry melts into his arms, and is it so surprising when the boy has revived so few hugs in his life, so few good touches. Harry is so used to human contact equating to pain, that being touched so gently, so lovingly, by someone whose bigger and stronger and can hurt him so easily, is something new and wonderful and amazing.

* * *

Harry stares, horrified, at the black steaming gunk in Remus's goblet. 

" Is that _edible?"_

" Well, it'll have to be. I've got to drink it, don't I?"

" But _why?"_

 _"_ You know why Prongslett, I've got to drink it to keep control of the wolf. I don't want to eat someone.."

" But if that someone was _Snape-"_

 _"_ Then I'd likely get indigestion."

* * *

" Uhm..."

Remus looks up. Harry's standing in front of his desk. He's taking shuddery breaths, sniffling every so often, and Remus can tell he's been crying. Fury bubbles up in his gut, the wolf howls inside, and Remus finds he wants to kill whoever has caused this.

" Harry, what's wrong?"

" I-I-I can't tell you, cause you're gonna ha-a-a-ate me!," he sobs.

With that Remus has leapt up from his chair to encircle Harry in his arms.

" Harry, nothing in the world could make me hate you. _Nothing,"_ Remus murmurs.

Harry pulls back, and for a moment Remus thinks he's done something wrong, and then the boy unbuttons his shirt and then-oh, _oh,_ he understands why Harry was so afraid. Faintly, he wonders how many people have rejected him because of this mark, this _still bright green mark with no scarring at all oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck._

" He's _alive?!"_

" Yeah, he's alive. He possessed my first defense teacher, Quirrell."

" I'm going to _kill_ that old coot! The goat fucking bastard hired _Voldemort to teach you!? And hasn't told a fucking soul that he's ALIVE?!?!"_

" Erm...yeah?" 

" Cub, you wait here. I'm going to have a _chat_ with our esteemed headmaster. I'll be back."

" Ok Moony."

* * *

Cub, protect, keep safe, _warmandsmallmilksmellflowersmellwoodscentsoftweakpack._

Rat, get rat, _packbreakeralphakillersmallweakfearscentmustyfurscentsickscentmangymattedcoward._

Mate, protect, heal, _hurthungrytiredbrokendogscentsunshinescentsadscentstronginjuredpack._

Others, other scents fear so much fear prey(?) old flowers leaves trees dead things anger, fear dust fruit parchment blood(?), fear _rat_ blood injured old cloth.

Stay with cub, stay with mate, protect, heal, chase rat(?), no, stay, stay.

\--

" _Really,_ Potter, do you honestly expect me to believe that rat is a dead man!?"

" Please professor, isn't there some way to find out if I'm telling the truth?!"

" Yes, in fact. _Homomorphus! Stupefy, Incarcerous!"_

 _"_ Woo! Go Sni-Sna-"

" _Stupefy, Incarcerous!"_

 _"_ He's innocent, what are you doing!?"

" _GrrRRRRAAAARRRrrrrraaarrrRR!!"_

 _"_ POTTER WHAT IN THE LIVING HELL ARE YOU DOING WITH A WEREWOLF?!?!

" I thought you noticed him before?"

" NO, I WAS A LITTLE FOCUSED ON THE ESCAPED CONVICT!!! NOW GET AWAY FROM IT!!"

" Uh, one, it is a _he,_ two, he doesn't seem to plan on letting me go...besides, he won't hurt me, I'm his cu-EWW MOONY STOP LICKING MY HAIR YOU DONT NEED TO GROOM ME!!"

* * *

He really, really didn't want to go back. Not to the Dursleys, not to being hungry and tired and hurt all the time, he doesn't _want_ to, why can't he just stay with Moony and Padfoot!?

" I'm sorry cub. We'll come visit, though..," Remus sighs, hugging Harry tightly before he boards the train home. 

Sirius runs up behind him yelling 'Dog Sandwich' and smooshing Harry between them both. This, at least, triggers a few laughs out of Harry, so Sirius feels accomplished with himself.

" Can't I stay with you?," Harry whispers.

" I'm sorry cub. Don't worry, we're going to keep trying to get guardianship of you. Or rather, Sirius is.."

" Definitely pup, I'll nag the Wizengamot until they give me my due as the 'Lord of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black.' Old coots love that kind of thing."

" Thank you," Harry mumbles.

 

 


	19. Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Bran thought about it. 'Can a man still be brave if he's afraid?'  
> 'That is the only time a man can be brave,' his father told him.” 
> 
> ― George R.R. Martin, A Game of Thrones
> 
> Death is most terrible, when you know with certainty that you will die. Fear shreds your heart, even though you know you must go on.
> 
> Or,
> 
> A man, a boy, a something-in-between, die. They die alone, really. They die in pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this crappy and short chapter was written because I thought I was going to die by tornado, and I needed a way to cope. Well, I still might, I can hear the siren, but. C'est la vie, amirite?

Fear is a funny thing, it twists up in your chest and sits there like a weight, makes your knees weak, your mouth dry, makes your steps shaky. What's funny is he's never felt fear so keenly until now. He can't breathe for the weight of it, this all consuming terror, this horrible, awful certainty that he's going to die.

It chokes him, it crushes him, it blinds him. He pushes on, heedlessly. He knows the consequences, well, consequence, of this action. He has accepted it, as much as he can. His heart beat thunders in his ears, frantic now, a warring drumbeat of don't die don't die don't die don't die and oh gods how he wants to concede to its wishes. Oh gods, he wishes that were his choice.

The fear is crippling now, he bows under the weight of it. He dry heaves with it, nothing but gasp after tortured gasp leaving his throat. He hadn't really expected to die of old age, he'd wanted it, certainly, but he didn't think...he never did think that's how he'd go. He'll die young, he doesn't feel young though. He feels so, so old.

He...he's so lonely. He's looking into familiar eyes, telling the owner of those eyes to go, to leave, and he wishes they wouldn't go. Oh how he wishes. But wishes never come true. Not for him, not ever.

There is no other way to end this though, to ensure Voldemort's defeat. Horcruxes, it all comes down to horcruxes, and the terrible knowledge he now possesses. But they will all be destroyed, he knows it in his bones. And he will watch from the afterlife, safe and sound in his victory, secure in the knowledge of Voldemort's doom. And he almost laughs, through the crushing fear, because oh how ironic, it will be love. Love love love will kill him, and a Mark will burn to ash. Unless...

Unless Voldemort feels remorse?

Try for some remorse, would you Tom?

* * *

 

The water is cold, even as he is dragged in. The hands clutching him numb his skin, and he supposes he should feel greatful. After all, one less pain is better than one more. Soon enough his lungs burn and ache, and he is struck by the contrast between the icy waters and his fiery chest. He almost wishes he hadn't sent Kreacher away, that he could look into the elf's eyes one last time. Oh, but it is no use, and far too late. To open his mouth for such a desperate plea would only hasten his death, for frozen water would surely rush in. Hesitantly, desperately, he thinks of a cerulean mark that will burn an ashy grey. It is his only regret.

* * *

Emerald eyes, searing pain, clogged throat, drowning, he is drowning in his own blood. He gives everything, everything he has left. In a few moments, he knows, an indigo mark will burn ashy grey on skin that has already grown cold. The thought makes him shudder. Everything is dim now, dull and fading, except those eyes, Lily's eyes, still gazing upon him, sadness and remorse twisting within their depths. 

* * *

Terror consumes him, he cannot breath, how sick a surrender, how cruel a victory. What spiteful assurance, a death for a death, he cannot bear it, he does not wish to, he is sick with the weight of burden and purpose, his shoulders bowed. Atlas overcome, a savior fallen and weeping among the trees. Oh what familiar sorrow, a man comforted by spirits under shadowed boughs. He kneels and he prays and he weeps, ill unto his core and wracked with harsh shudders. Oh the hour has come, oh there is know other way, oh his cup is overflowing with sorrows, oh how he must drink it unto the very last dregs. What bitter wine, what acrid perfume, what horrid fate. They are gone from him, and he is alone, and he will face his tormentors, his destined, his murderer, and let himself be overcome. He will not raise his voice, no, he'll give them no such satisfaction.His bones are never broken, even when their curses lash him and cut him and threaten to bleed him dry. Green eyes clouded with pain look into red orbs of apathy. He expects death, this time. But before death can greet him, it seems there must be more pain. And such pain it is. Crucio crucio crucio, splayed upon the forest floor, oh when will it be finished. And then, at last, when he stands, when he greets the man he could have loved, green light, the color of his eyes, of his mother's, consumes him. 

 

 

 


	20. For Good Men to do Nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " You let everyone that I loved die! You left me! You left me alone! You sent me away! How could you do that!?"
> 
> -Supergirl, Season One Episode Eight, Hostile Takeover
> 
>  
> 
> Until now, Harry had viewed the man as infallible. He had placed the man on a pedestal in his mind. But all pedestals inevitably topple. What's that saying? The higher you are, the harder you fall?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn it's been a while. Three months, I think? Four? But this chapter just refused to happen! Or rather, it refused to happen in its prior incarnations. But, here it is, at long last. Buckle up buttercups, this one's bumpy. FYI, I don't think there's ever been a more accurate quote in the summary...just sayin'...

The first time Hermione suggested they all see mind healers, Harry got a little...upset. After all, that was just a..a..a magic  _shrink_! And he wasn't crazy! Only crazy people saw shrinks! Loons! Kooks! It was abnormal, damnit! 

" Is that you talking, or Vernon Dursley, I can't quite tell."

Ok, so maybe he was overreacting. After all, anything the Dursleys dissapproved of couldn't be too bad, right?  _Right_?

* * *

_" Hello Harry, I'm Healer Price. I understand you were somewhat reluctant to schedule an appointment today? Any particular reason?"_

_Harry huffed, looking anywhere but at the woman in front of him. There were pictures on the wall, finger paintings and crayon drawings and a rather detailed sketch of a dragon. In the corner was a sandbox and several toys. The walls were a pale cream color, the carpet maroon, the chair almost uncomfortably squishy. The silence, almost uncomfortably awkward. Finally, Harry spoke._

_" Why are there toys in here? And pens and papers and crayons?"_

_" Well, I see children as well as adults. For some children, it's easier to draw what happened to them, or show me on a doll. For some adults, as well. That, and for some it's nice to be distracted while they talk about past traumas. Here, would you like a pencil and paper?"_

_" I'm not traumatized," Harry bit out, before snatching the pen and paper._

_Harry felt bad for snapping at the woman, but he just couldn't help it. She was so calm and pleasant and she acted like this whole bloody thing was normal! It wasn't normal it was bad it was(_ freakish and wrong and awful and everyone would find out everyone would know everyone would think he was cracked in the head just like everyone on Privet Drive thought and nothing would change or no it would it would change for the worse).. _it was...it..why couldn't he just be_ normal? 

_" Do you want to talk about anything?"_

_" No."_

_" Do you mind if I talk then?"_

_"...no.."_

_" My name is Kendra Price. I'm a muggleborn, and an only child, and I'm married to probably the biggest dork in the world. I turn 26 in August. My favorite color is green, I was in Ravenclaw. The worst thing I ever did as a child was climb the shelves in a local B &Q. I hid between two that were back to back and periodically poked out my head over some display or other to terrify customers. I was grounded for a month, because I got us kicked out of the store and ruined my Sunday dress to boot.."_

_\--_

_When Harry's session was over, he left behind a very detailed drawing of his childhood bedroom, down to the smallest spiders in that dark little cupboard._

* * *

 They were looking at old pictures when he began to really notice it. In every picture of him that they had, he barely came up to Hermione's shoulder. A tiny, bony waif in tattered rags that dared to pass themselves off as clothing. And then Harry saw it; a class picture from primary. He stuck out like a sore thumb; bruised and unkempt and far too small and far too hunched, afraid to be seen and heard and _punished._ Harry remembers how the teachers used to look at him then, how their eyes would slide over him, how it wasn't their business because the bruises were from roughhousing( _never mind how they were far too big to have been caused by any child, and most adults),_  how he was just fine boned, forgetful, a picky eater( _never mind how he was the only recorded case of rickets in the U.K. in 1987, how no other child went every single day without a lunch pail and lunch money),_ how he was simply too rough with his clothing( _never mind how they could see Dudley rip and tear his and listen to him talk about how he didn't like the shirt he had so he'd ruin it and let the Freak have it, how Harry was oh so careful not to ruin his clothes, how those clothes were more often than not bloodstained),_  how he was a stupid delinquent( _never mind how he was the sweetest, quietest boy in any class he attended, how he'd been at the top of his class the first quarter of his first year at school, how he'd been gone for two weeks and when he came back he failed everything consistently thereafter_ ). No, that was none of _their_ business.

* * *

  _" I thought we'd try something new today Harry," Healer Price says, placing a piece of paper on the desk._

 _Quickly, she sketches out an iceberg, with only its tip above the water. On the tip she writes, '_ **ANGER** _'. Then, she writes '_ **FEAR** _' in small, blocky letters on the submerged portion of the iceberg._

_" Anger is a secondary emotion; that is, lots of different emotions lie under the surface of our anger, contributing to and creating it. Can you think of any emotions that could lead you to being angry? Well, besides fear."_

_" Uh, helplessness? Pain, anxiousness, embarrassment, sadness..?," Harry guesses._

_Honestly, he is grasping at straws here; he's never been good with emotions after all. At least, not with putting them into words._

_" That good. All of those, particularly pain, can lead to very intense anger. Can you think of any more?"_

_" Betrayal," he murmurs, painfully reminded of Wormtail._

_" Yes, betrayal often leads to very profound anger."_

* * *

He is twenty when Vernon dies, and he has never felt so relieved in his life. But he also feels so, _so_ guilty. Harry knows it's wrong to feel good about someone dying, but he can't help it..he knows his uncle can never hurt him again. He's beyond shocked to receive an invitation to the funeral; never in a million years did Harry think the Dursleys would invite him to _anything._ Of course, when he attends the wake he finds out  _why_ he was invited. Petunia always did put him down to make herself fell better, and she certainly needed to feel better...

Harry hears the whispers as soon as he arrives, sees the not-so-furtive glances. Apparently, so does Ginny, if the viselike grip on his arm is anything to go by. Teddy, who has today chosen to go with red hair and green eyes, sleepily yawns from his place in Ginny's arms, clearly not noticing the gossip mongerers at all. One woman, who he recognizes as Mrs. Number Nine, comes up to him.

" Oh, Terry, it's been some time since we've seen you, what when you started going to St. Brutus's year round," she simpers.

Harry blinks, dumbfounded. He honestly isn't sure this woman knows who he is, calling him Terry like that, mentioning St. Brutus's...and then he spots the vindictive glint in his aunt's eyes and realizes what's going on. Ginny starts to snap something before Harry puts his hand on her arm.

" Who told you I attended St. Brutus's? I graduated from Swinson Academy," Harry corrects her, affecting a confused tone of voice, brow furrowing.

" _Swinson_? How did you afford _Swinson_? Your grades certainly weren't good enough!," his third grade teacher, also known as Mr. Number Five yelps, looking apoplectic.

Ginny smiled, a slow, malicious sort of smile, before saying," His parents, Lord and Lady Potter, attended Swinson themselves, and payed his tuition before they were murdered. Of course, even if they hadn't, his godfather, the Duke of Blackmoore, certainly would have payed for him to attend."

" Your parents were no lord and lady they were drunk-," Petunia begins heatedly, before being stopped by a cold look from Harry.

" Actually, my father was Viscount Falmouth. Which, I guess, means I am. And before you say I'm lying, well, why would I lie about something so easy to look up?," Harry points out.

 " Well, surely your godfather wasn't the Duke of Blackmoore-"

" Sirius Black, exonerated ex-convict, was in fact the Duke of Blackmoore. His family has been apart of the peerage for hundreds of years," Harry explains slowly, as though his aunt was impaired, or perhaps deaf.

Suddenly, they're interrupted by a little girl walking up to Mrs. Number nine and asking," Nana, who's Harry?"

" That would be me?," Harry answers, confused.

" Why was your room so tiny? And dirty? And how come you don't have no toys, just cleanin' stuff? And why's there browny-red stuff everywhere? And why's it smell like pennies?," the little girl asks.

Then, she drags her grandmother over to the cupboard, flinging it open. On the inside of the door, just below that stupid grate( _and he remembers being so small and so very afraid of the dark and his uncle laughing and shutting the grate, casting him into almost complete blackness, save for a then strip of yellow in the cracks of the door)_ hangs a ripped, faded scrap of notebook paper reading ' _hArys RoOM_ ' in childish green scrawl. The small faded cot within is covered in rust colored stains, a broken toy soldier lays on his tattered baby blanket. On the wall, a tiny handprint of the same rusted color is smeared. Numbly, Harry tugs the blanket out of the dark cupboard and into the light, noting how little blood is on it. 

The guests go silent, shock and horror warring on their faces as they stare, and stare. Harry ignores them. Teddy chooses then to wake up from his nap, yawning widely. He blinks at the green and cream blanket in Harry's hands. Snitches are embroidered upon it in shiny gold thread that catches the child's eyes.

" Wha's da Unca Hawwy? Wha you has?," he asks.

" My blanket..," Harry replies numbly," from when I was littler than you."

Suddenly there is a furor of voices, the neighbors accusing Petunia of all kinds of awful things, calling her out as abusive, apologizing to Harry and saying how they couldn't have known, no one could've, it was so well hidden, who could guess that poor Harry Potter was being abus-

" _Anyone with functional eyes!!!,"_  Ginny shrieks.

Everyone quiets. Everyone stares. Harry winces, starts to say something, stops. It's true; not one of them could've missed this. Not unless they were blind and deaf.

* * *

_" So, you seem quiet today. Something bothering you, Harry?," Healer Price asked, all the while fiddling with a tinker toy she was attempting fit together._

_" I, uh, I went to my Uncle's funeral yesterday. A kid that was there found my cupboard..and all the neighbors, they were saying how they...how they were so sorry they didn't notice I was being abused..and Ginny..she said they'd have to have been blind not to have known. Hell, Mister Peters, the man who slept on the park bench, he_ was _blind and I think he knew," Harry mumbled._

_" You think it was pretty obvious then?"_

_" Y-yeah.."_

_" Then, do you think any of the Hogwarts teachers noticed?"_

_This gives Harry pause; how could they_ not _have noticed? He was smaller than a first year until he was thirteen..he flinched at quick movements and raised hands..hell, he'd been sitting next to Hermione in Flitwick's first class of the year, and when she raised her hand next to him he jerked so bad he fell out of his chair..that wasn't_ normal, _how the hell did nobody notice...how the hell did Madam Pomphrey never notice!? How did Dumbl-no, no, he can't have known, he wouldn't have put Harry there if he'd known, he wouldn't, he...he..did he know..?_

_" Harry?"_

_" Dumbledore, he wouldn't have noticed, right? He only saw me at mealtime, and-and-and in his office a couple times a year..he didn't know, right?," Harry pleads._

_" I wouldn't know, Harry. I can only guess, just like you. Maybe..do you have access to his portrait? Perhaps the portrait could give you some answers."_

_Oh, he had something better than a portrait. He had a rock. A stone, really._

* * *

As soon as he apparates back to Grimmauld Place, Harry races into his room. He locks the door, dives under his bed, and comes out covered in dust bunnies and clutching a shoebox. In that shoebox lies a silvery cloak, a pale wand, and a cracked black stone. Snatching the stone, he turned it in his hand quickly, almost frantically. Once, twice, thrice, and a shimmering apparition of Dumbledore streamed out from the stone.

" Did you know?," Harry rushes out, before continuing without giving Dumbledore a chance to answer," You didn't, right, you didn't know about the Dursleys, that they..that they hurt me?"

" I..I read the article published by Rita Skeeter in your fourth year," the old man says, not quite looking Harry in the eye.

" So, so that's when you f-found out, was fourth year? You didn't, you didn't know before then?"

Harry is desperate, and it is clear on his face, in his voice. Hope and fear mingle in his eyes; he does not wish to believe that someone he so trusted would betray him so. But the man doesn't answer, doesn't look at him, and Harry, Harry feels like he can't breathe, like he's drowning, like he's _dying,_ because he knows, he _knows,_ that this silence is an answer, the answer he never wanted. And suddenly Harry feels something in his throat, and it's hard to breathe, and all that comes out is a croak when he tries to speak, and he can't-his eyes are burning and he's crying he thinks and oh, this must be what people talk about when they say that they 'have a lump in their throat', because oh, oh, he can't breathe he can't speak he can only sob, stumble back as though pushed by a physical weight, fall to the floor.

" Harry, m'boy-" Dumbledore starts, before he is interrupted.

" _DON'T CALL ME THAT, YOU DON'T GET TO CALL ME THAT!,"_ Harry screams hoarsely.

And somehow, Dumbledore looks far older and far frailer than before.

" _Why_?," Harry whimpers. 

" I..I can offer you no explanation that can ease your heart, nor make you even begin to forgive me. I knew before I ever put you on the doorstep of Number Four Privet Drive that the house would never be home to you. I knew you would not be loved, or safe, but also that you would not die. The house, and the denizens within, were meant to be your safety, and your crucible."

" What the fuck's that supposed to mean," Harry croaks.

" They made you what you are. You are strong, because to be weak would be to die. You are recklessly brave, because self-worth was never a value instilled into you. You are fiercely loyal to those who show you kindness, because you had never received it. You are self-sacrificing, because to be otherwise could have led to the deaths of the only people you can ever remember showing you love. You were destined to defeat Tom, and you needed to be ready."

Its almost as though everything he's ever known, ever believed, is coming crashing down upon him. He can't breathe, can't think, the man he saw as a grandfather, a kindred spirit, someone who he thought understood him in a way even Ginny could not fully, had callously engineered his childhood full of misery.

" Hagrid, the Weasleys, they were meant to give you a reason to fight. A savior and a family, reasons for you to care. Miss Granger, and the fact that she is muggleborn, was simply a fortuitous coincidence. None of them knew; blame me, for they had no part in my machinations." 

Suddenly, Harry is struck with an even more terrible thought than that he was purposely left to be ab- _hurt_ by the Dursleys-when he was fifteen, he, Hermione, Terry Boot, and the Creevey brothers were ambushed and captured while on a raid against a supposed hideout of Death Eaters. They were imprisoned in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor for three and a half months. No one ever came to rescue them.

" Did-when I was...did anyone...was there ever a rescue attempt made?," Harry rasps, mouth suddenly dry as bone.

" I..," Dumbledore starts. 

He cannot finish; the truth is far too terrible, ashes and bile in his mouth, but he cannot bear to further wrong Harry by lying. Yet again, this ashamed silence is as good as a tacit admission to Harry. First, Harry is numb. Then, he launches to his feet with a scream. He lunges forwards, hands formed into rigid, swiping claws, desperate and agonized.

" _How could you!? Do you know what they did to me? I SPENT THREE MONTHS CHAINED AND BLEEDING, CHAINED TO A WALL IN THE DAY AND SOMEONE'S BED AT NIGHT, CUT AND BRUISED AND TORN AND YOU WEREN'T EVEN TRYING TO RESCUE ME!!! AND YA KNOW WHAT?! I CAN'T FUCKING DIE! I WANTED TO DIE YOU DON'T HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH I WANTED IT TO END BUT IT NEVER STOPPED SHE JUST KEPT CUTTING AND BURNING CASTING CRUCIO AFTER CRUCIO AFTER CRUCIO AND THEN MY BODY WOULD KNIT BACK TOGETHER AND I'D START BREATHING AGAIN AND SHE WOULD_ **START ALL** **OVER AGAIN**!!!!!"

Dumbledore jerks back, looking sick, before he replies," I had thought Tom would kill you. But then three months passed and I realized he did not intend to end your life, even if he knew you had been captured-"

Dumbledore never finishes his explanation, shocked into silence as Harry falls to his knees and _keens,_ his acid green magic, identical to his mother's, visible and lashing out around him in a deadly corona. Everyhing it touches burns and shatters. The door and most of the furniture is reduced to fiery splinters, the windows a mix of melted and shattered, Harry's own clothes shredding in the violent winds surrounding his wailing form. Hermione and Ron, the only two home at the time, rush into his room, wands out and, in Ron's case, auror robes on. Instantly, they fall to work, Hermione setting up a ward around Harry to contain his magic, Ron repairing all the broken things in the room. By the time Ron has finished, the connection with Dumbledore has snapped and the spirit is gone. The damage, however, remains. Harry sobs on the floor, ward long gone, Hermione holding him like she's fighting to keep him in one piece. Ron sits next to him and holds him as well. Neither of them speak. Harry weeps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a couple of things.
> 
> Nobility: No, in canon there is no mentioned nobility. However, in my little AU I've decided that James Potter, by way of his distant relatives and as the closest related living male, inherited the title and land of Viscount Falmouth, becoming the next Falmouth. Blackmoore is a made up place in Ireland, named for the Black family that ruled it. It is not a real place nor does it come with a real title. Falmouth, on the other hand, is and does. Obviously, Falmouth doesn't actually belong to Harry Potter, because Harry is only real in our literature and films and other related media, and therefore can own nothing.
> 
> Mr. Number Five, Mrs. Number Nine, etc.: Harry,(or at least his P.O.V.), refers to some neighbors this way in canon. In my story, he refers to them all this way.
> 
> Swinton Academy: The muggle cover for Hogwarts. I figured they needed a legit reason for all those muggleborns and muggle-raised to disappear off of the academic map, so to speak. Therefore, Swinton is a very prestigious, hard to get into school of the elite...and a complete farce. It has records of everyone with a muggle birth certificate attending. The government never looks into it because the part that deals with magic is in on it.
> 
> And, last but not least, my depiction of Dumbledore...: No, he's not evil. He is a dick, yes, but not maliciously. He loves harry like a son..but he is a general. He sees the big picture, and though he never loses sight of the individual, he does not put their wellbeing over that of everyone's. So, he left Harry, assured that Harry would stay alive, and would be fiercely loyal to his perceived rescuers. As for leaving him, (and, by extension, Hermione, Terry Boot, and the Creevey boys), captured, that was a moment of cowardice and weakness. He sincerely hoped Voldemort would kill Harry. But that never happened, because none of the death eaters told Voldemort Harry had been captured, under the pretense of 'making sure it was really Harry Potter.' 
> 
> The Prophecy: Its exactly the same as in canon, but the meaning is deeper and more horrifying than in canon. In canon, Harry was marked by his scar alone, and Neville could have been the Chosen One. In YWYNMH, Harry was the only one the prophecy could refer to..Harry was marked by Tom's Avada Kedavra in _two_ ways, both equally awful. His scar, the rune Sowilo. And his Soulmark.
> 
> As for 'either must die at the hand of the other'...Harry could only be killed by tom, and vice versa. Bellatrix figured that out when she cut him a little too deep and he bled out...only for his magic to flare a few minutes later and heal him excruciatingly slowly. As you can imagine, this amused her greatly. Being a horcrux, being the Master of Death, and the ritual Lily performed, were the power unknown. And finally, Harry can die...of old age. And the more powerful the wizard or witch, the slower they age. In my 'verse, even the weakest don't start showing signs of physical age until sixty or so, and even then they only look about thirty or forty. So, he's got a while to live, and the gang will be there with him for the ride.


End file.
